Bob Shaftoe now tried to become angry, without much success. An Englishman of higher class would have huffed 'Now see here!' but Bob set his jaw and tried to sit up. He had more success in that – at first – because Eliza was not a large girl. But then from behind the dazzling hair curtain came a hand, and the hand was holding a small Turkish dagger – very nice, a wriggling blade of watered steel – which closed on his left eyeball and obliged him to lie flat again.