"An old piece of iron and my brains. It's a good one; try it for yourself."
As he speaks, he shakes the horrible link of iron from his foot and passes the instrument to the other.
No. 99 takes it, with a muttered oath.
"You're a wonderful man, captain, a wonderful man. There ain't nothing as you can't do—or won't do if we gets clear of this frightful torment. I'll be sworn, the game's all planned out a'ready."
"It is," replies the other, with quiet coolness.
The grating of the file stops for a moment.
"I thought so! S'help me, if I didn't! Might a humble pal, as has always stood by you, captain, ask what the move is? It 'u'd pass the time away and keep the shivers off. There's a curse in the very air o' this place that cramps a man's heart and a'most chokes him. Tell us the plot, captain. I'm yourn, and you know it."
The captain looks into the darkness before him in silence for a moment; then, speaking in the whisper above which their voices had never for a moment been raised, he says:
"I'll tell you, Jem, as we swim together, as you say. We must, taking all things into consideration, and so—Jem, give me your hand."
The man he called Jem feels about in the darkness until his hard-grimed hand is clasped in the softer one of his companion, and waits silently.