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- Джон Уиндем
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I
knew
I
was
lying
on
a
bed
,
but
I
did
not
sit
up
to
investigate
further
;
there
was
a
piston
pounding
away
in
my
head
that
discouraged
any
kind
of
movement
.
So
I
lay
there
quietly
and
studied
the
ceiling
—
until
I
discovered
that
my
wrists
were
tied
together
.
That
snapped
me
out
of
my
lethargy
,
in
spite
of
the
thumping
head
.
I
found
it
a
very
neat
job
.
Not
painfully
tight
,
but
perfectly
efficient
.
Several
turns
of
insulated
wire
on
each
wrist
,
and
a
complex
knot
on
the
far
side
where
it
was
impossible
for
me
to
reach
it
with
my
teeth
.
I
swore
a
bit
and
looked
around
.
The
room
was
small
and
,
save
for
the
bed
on
which
I
lay
,
empty
.
"
Hey
!
"
I
called
.
"
Anybody
around
here
?
"
After
half
a
minute
or
so
there
was
a
shuffle
of
feet
outside
.
The
door
was
opened
,
and
a
head
appeared
.
It
was
a
small
head
with
a
tweed
cap
on
the
top
of
it
.
It
had
a
stringy
-
looking
choker
beneath
and
a
dark
unshaveness
across
its
face
.
It
was
not
turned
straight
at
me
,
but
in
my
general
direction
"
‘
Ullo
,
cock
,
"
it
said
,
amiably
enough
.
"
So
you
’
ve
come
to
,
‘
ave
yer
?
‘
Ang
on
a
bit
,
an
’
I
’
ll
get
you
a
cup
o
’
char
.
"
And
it
vanished
again
.
The
instruction
to
hang
on
was
superfluous
,
but
I
did
not
have
to
wait
long
.
In
a
few
minutes
he
returned
,
carrying
a
wire
-
handled
can
with
some
tea
in
it
.
"
Where
are
yer
?
"
he
said
.
"
Straight
ahead
of
you
,
on
the
bed
,
"
I
told
him
.
He
groped
forward
with
his
left
hand
until
he
found
the
foot
of
the
bed
,
then
he
felt
his
way
round
it
and
held
out
the
can
.
"
‘
Ere
y
’
are
,
chum
.
