Ford bit his lip. He wasn't sure if this was working, but he didn't know what else to do. Darrow didn't seem to have found anything he was looking for yet, and he definitely seemed... distractable, to say the least. Maybe if Ford could keep him talking, he could prevent him from finding things for long enough that he'd run out of time for whatever he was going to do. Maybe they could just wait it out, and someone would show up sooner or later and interrupt this and rescue him. His hands were tied, but Ford could yell to warn them if he saw anyone approaching or heard a door open, so he could prevent them from falling into the same pitfall he had. He glanced at the nearest window hopefully, but his heart sank when he saw the snow piling up outside. Would the snow mean people were home earlier than anticipated, or later? He wasn't sure. He didn't really know anything about Mr. Brownhill, or the schedule he and his household typically kept. And what if the snow got too deep, and they were stuck here together?

"What's the ingredient?" he asked. "What do you need it for? Really. Not for your dying patient."