The cords about his wrists chafed and hurt
with each movement. The metal wash-stand gave him an inspiration; its
upper strip was thin, and somewhat jagged along the edge; possibly it
might be utilized to sever the strands. It was better to try the
experiment than remain thus helplessly bound. With hands free he could
at least defend himself.
He made the effort, doubtfully at first, but hope came as the sharp edge
began to tear at the rope. It was slow work, awkward, requiring all the
strength of his arms, yet he felt sure of progress. He could feel the
strands yield little by little, and redoubled his efforts. It hurt, the
rope lacerating his wrists, and occasionally the jagged steel cut into
the flesh cruelly, but the thought of freedom outweighed the pain, and he
persevered manfully. At last, exercising all his muscle, the last frayed
strand snapped. His wrists were bleeding, and the hands numb, but the
severed cord lay on the floor and he again had the free use of his arms.
The sudden freedom brought new hope and courage. He listened at the door,
testing the knob cautiously. There was no yielding, and for the moment no
sound reached him from without. The woman was doubtless there on guard,
and any effort he might make to break down the door would only bring the
whole gang upon him. Unarmed, he could not hope to fight them all. As he
stood there, hesitating, unable to determine what to attempt, he became
aware of a throbbing under foot, increasing in intensity.
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