'Verdict?' be said faintly. 'My business is painting, and I daren't waste time. What do you make of it?'
Again the whirl of words, but this time they conveyed a meaning.
'Can you give me anything to drink?'
Many sentences were pronounced in that darkened room, and the prisoners often needed cheering. Dick found a glass of liqueur brandy in bis band.
'As far as I can gather,' he said, coughing above the spirit, 'you call it decay of the optic nerve, or something, and therefore hopeless. What is my time-limit, avoiding all strain and worry?'
'Perhaps one year.'
'My God! And if I don't take care of myself?'
'I really could not say. One cannot ascertain the exact amount of injury inflicted by the sword-cut. The scar is an old one, and—exposure to the strong light of the desert, did you say?—with excessive application to fine work? I really could not say.'
'I beg your pardon, but it has come without any warning. If you will let me, I'll sit here for a minute, and then I'll go. You have been very good in telling me the truth. Without any warning; without any warning. Thanks.'
Dick went into the street, and was rapturously received by Binkie. 'We've got it very badly,
