How long had he been unconscious?
Was it time now--now?
Was MacDonald's finger already reaching out to that little white button which would send him into eternity?
He struggled again, gnashing furiously at the thing which covered his mouth, tearing the flesh of his wrists as he twisted at the ropes which bound him, choking himself with his efforts to loosen the thong about his neck.

Exhausted again, he sank back, panting, half dead.

As he lay with closed eyes a little of his reason asserted itself.

After all, was he such a coward as to go mad?
Tick--tick--tick! His watch was beating at a furious rate.

Was something wrong with it?
Was it going too fast?
He tried to count the seconds, but they raced away from him.