In a vague, aimless way, I sought for my matchbox, and struck a light. I had just time to observe that both windows were smashed,and the floor of the compartment tilted, when the match went out in the wind. I had heard no noise of breaking glass.

I stumbled slowly to the door, and tried to open it, but the thing would not budge. Whereupon I lost my temper.

“Open, you beast, you beast, you beast!” I cried to the door, kicking it hard, and yet not feeling the impact.

Then another thought — a proud one, which served to tranquillize me: “I am a doctor, and they will want me to attend to the wounded.”

I remembered my flask, and unscrewing the stopper with difficulty, clutched the mouth with my