She looked at him, quickly, as if all her muscles had stiffened. And then they relaxed again.
"Of course — you couldn't take me with you," she said wistfully. "I'd only be in the way."
It was hard to keep the rope pressed firmly enough against the brick and at the same time keep his flesh away. There seemed to be more protruding bones in his hands and wrists than he had ever dreamed of, and his skin was much less tough than the rope. Fierce twinges of rasping agony stabbed up his arms, but he could not allow himself to heed them.
He said: "If you feel the same way that I do, and you'd like to take a chance, we'll have a shot at it together."
She had begun to stare at the curious rhythmic twitching of his shoulders.
"What are you doing?"
The sweat was standing out in beads on his forehead although she could not see that; and his teeth were clamped together in stubborn endurance of the torture that he was inflicting on himself while he tore the flesh off his bones as he fought to fray off the strands of hemp that tied his hands. But his heart was blazing with a savage exaltation that partly deadened pain.
He said through his clenched teeth and rigid lips: "Never mind. We haven't got much longer. When they fetch us out again, I'm going to try to break loose. You give way to all your impulses — scream your head off, and fight as hard as you can to break away. Anything to keep their attention occupied. Leave the rest to me. I expect all we'll get will be two bellyfulls of bullets, but I may be able, to kill Luker and Marteau first."
She was quite still for a moment, and then she said in a strange strained voice: "Okay. I'll do everything I can."
He laid his face against hers as she leaned towards him, and went on sawing his wrists against the wall in a grim fury of torment. He spoke only once more.