Well, that too he answered.
"Who he is? The Runner?… Don't be silly. Who else should it be?"
With every nerve in me tingling, I tried again.
"What happens, then, when he catches you?"
This time, I really don't know whether his words were an answer or not; they were these:
"To hear him catching you up … and then padding away ahead again! All right, all right … but I guess it's weakening him a bit, too…."
Without noticing it, I had got out of bed, and had advanced quite to the middle of the floor.
"What did you say his name was?" I breathed.
But that was a dead failure. He muttered brokenly for a moment, gave a deep troubled sigh, and then began to snore loudly and regularly.
I made my way back to bed; but I assure you that before I did so I filled my basin with water, dipped my face into it, and then set the candlestick afloat in it, leaving the candle burning. I thought I'd like to have a light…. It had burned down by morning. Rooum, I remember, remarked on the silly practice of reading in bed.