Possibly if Kafka, being left without any assistance, had shown no further signs of sinking, Keyork would have helped him to sink a little lower.

To produce this much-desired result, he had nothing with him but the ether, of which the Wanderer of course knew the smell and understood the effects.
He saw the chances of making the experiment upon an excellent subject slipping away before his eyes and he grew more angry in proportion as they seemed farther removed.
"He is a little better," he said discontentedly, after another long interval of silence.
The Wanderer bent down and saw that the eyelids were quivering and that the face was less deathly livid than before.

Then the eyes opened and stared dreamily at the glass roof.
"And I will," said the faint, weak voice, as though completing a sentence.
"I think not," observed Keyork, as though answering.

"The people who do what they mean to do are not always talking about will." But Kafka had closed his eyes again.
This time, however, his breathing was apparent and he was evidently returning to a conscious state.

The Wanderer arranged the pillow more comfortably under his head and covered him with his own furs.