"I won't have to after a couple more hours," Dr. Moriss said. "I'm going to wake him up and get him to drink some of that tomato juice with a little seasoning in it designed to make him sicker than he is. A few glasses of that and pounding my repeated question at him a few more times should do it."
I stole back to my room and grinned at the tomato juice. Did you ever put a jigsaw together and get a flash of insight that made the pieces fall into place suddenly, completing the puzzle almost by itself? That pitcher of tomato juice was the last piece. Everything fit, including that.
I would be able to tell my lie, and make Dr. Leopold Moriss believe it. Then—I would help him. My wild laughter burst into my ears. By an effort of will I shut it off and climbed back into bed, simulating sleep, my ears tuned for the first sound of the doctor's coming.
The door opened. After a moment of suspense during which I kept my breathing slow and deep it closed softly. Padded footsteps came across the rug.
"January!" The doctor's voice was impersonal and insistent. His hand was gripped on my shoulder, shaking me. "Why were you afraid, January?"
I kept my eyes closed for a moment, mumbling protests. Inside I was laughing to myself, gloatingly. His voice was no longer torture. It was the senseless repetition of a parrot.
Suddenly it angered me. I opened my eyes, glaring, a corner of my mind thrilling to the beautiful way my emotions were giving authenticity to my acting.
"Why are you afraid, January?" the doctor repeated, his calm face hovering above me.
I shoved his hand away, sneering at him, and sat up. The movement sent stabs of pain through my head. I gripped my head in my hands, groaning.