They ascended by a lift to one of the upper floors, passed through a long ward, and finally came to a bed in the extreme corner, round which a screen had been arranged. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. You simply can't get good oil down there, so I must husband the few drams I carry. ‘What do you think?’ ‘What do I think?’ repeated Captain Roding.
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