His spoilt stomach was now raving at him in a savage frenzy.

Now and again he shouted, but less often as the afternoon drew on, for he knew surely that it was hopeless.
As the dusk fell, he found himself remembering Tinker's words about the headless woman and the redheaded man, and began to curse his folly in not having come to terms.

At times his hunger was a veritable anguish.
This night was a thousand times worse than the night before.

His hunger gave him little rest, and he awoke from his brief sleep in fits of abject terror, fancying that the redheaded man was staring in through the window; he saw his gashed throat quite plainly.

He grew colder and colder, for he was too faint with hunger to stamp about the top of the tower.