“What can you mean?” I breathed.
“Which is the worst? To suffer yourself or drag those you love into torment?” he asked fiercely.
And as he spoke his face completely changed. Again he was Maurice—Maurice speaking in deadly earnest, if not in anger—then like a flash the face was transformed again, became as before, and over it spread a sad smile.
“Do not be angry with—with me,” he said. “I cannot help it. I am not fully master of myself.”
I was too deeply concerned for anger. Was he indeed mad? If not, then what did it all mean?
“You shall have food at once,” I said. “Meanwhile can you bear being left alone a moment?”
“Why certainly; but stay, I want to know where I am. What place is this? This is not the chamber from which I started on my journey to Mars?”
“No; it is not. Great changes have come to us since then, Maurice. Let me advise you not to question us now. Later on we will tell you”
“No! No! Now! Tell me now!”
“Would you object to letting me feel your pulse, Maurice?” asked the Doctor.
He submitted quietly enough. The Doctor performed the operation and dropped the hand without comment.
“Why don’t you stand up?” he asked.
“Because I do not chose to.”
“Are you in pain?”
“Yes—no!”
“Which?”
“No—no?”
“I should like to see you walk a few steps.”
“But you won’t!” he flashed, and again that marvelous change of facial expression came and went.
The Doctor would have pressed him further, but he turned beseechingly to me.
“George, won’t you tell me?”
I told him all. I could not refuse.
He listened, making no comment until I had uttered the last word.
“Then our situation is desperate?”
“Most desperate.”
“Even if we escape from the cave there is no help for us?”
