It seemed to him, then, that they two were alone together, in a room in a high tower. The room was full of a Wizard's theurgical paraphernalia, and Morlock himself was seated at a desk, oblivious to his presence. Baldric wondered at this, at whether some treachery was involved, for the minds of Wizards were subtle; this could very well be some sort of trap!
Baldric then felt the pommel of his sword, to reassure himself that it still hung at his back. Slowly, carefully, silently, he drew it forth, and with equal stealth began to approach the evil Wizard. For his part, Morlock scribbled obliviously away with quill and ink upon a piece of parchment, muttering to himself now and then, obviously consumed with his own thoughts.
But as Baldric drew nearer, both Morlock and the room seemed to grow larger. To test this perception, Baldric moved silently closer, ever nearer. Panic seemed to issue from the room itself, and a sense of despair and futility began to weigh upon him. At last, he stood behind Morlock's chair, which now towered high above him.
It dawned on him, then, that his intended mission was utterly futile. At the same instant, Morlock turned in his chair and stared down upon him, very much aware of his presence, as he had apparently been all along!