‘But I am talking of myself, though,’ he cried.
I looked at him with amazement. ‘You do not mean to say that you intend to imprison yourself in this cabin till we get home?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t imprison myself,’ he answered, ‘I am imprisoned.’
‘By whom, pray?’
‘Can’t you see?’
I ran my eyes round the cabin.
‘No, no!’ he shouted, ‘look at me. Don’t you perceive that I can’t get out? How am I to pass through that door?’
‘How are you to pass through that door?’ I exclaimed; ‘Why, by walking through it, of course. How else!’
‘Ay, and that’s just what I can’t do,’ said he with a melancholy shake of the head.