Around eight o’clock, he brought me in a supper-tray and then went to the foot of Hopper’s bed and smiled at him.
“Would you like something to eat, Mr. Hopper?” he asked coaxingly.
Hopper’s reaction to this gave even me a start. It nearly gave Quell heart failure. Hopper shot forward to the end of the bed, his arms seemed to stretch out as if they were made of elastic, and his hooked fingers brushed Quell’s white jacket. Quell sprang back, stumbled and nearly fell. His face turned the colour of putty.
“I don’t think Mr. Hopper wants anything to eat,” I said, the piece of chicken I was chewing suddenly tasting like sawdust. “And I don’t think I’m that keen either.”
But Quell wasn’t interested in how I felt. He went out of the room with a rush of air, a streak of white and a bang of the door.
Hopper threw off the bed-clothes and started after him. He landed with a crash on the floor, held by his ankle, and he screamed. He jerked madly at the chain, bruising his ankle. Then, when he found he couldn’t get free, he swung himself up on to the bed and threw himself on the chain of the handcuff. He began to pull at it, while I froze, watching him. From where I was the chain looked horribly fragile. The thought that this madman might break loose while I was still chained sent a chill up my spine. My hand went to the bell and hovered over it.
He had the chain now in both hands, and, bracing his feet against the end bar of the bed he strained back, his face turning purple with the exertion. The bar bent but held, and the chain held, too. Finally, he dropped back, gasping, and I knew the danger was over. I found sweat on my face. Without exactly being aware of it those past minutes had been about the worse I had ever experienced.
The purple colour of Hopper’s face had turned to white. He lay still, his eyes closed, and I waited, watching him. After a while, and to my surprise, he began to snore.
Then Quell came into the room, carrying a strait jacket. His face was pale, but determined.
“Take it easy,” I said, and I was startled how shaky my voice sounded. “He’s asleep. You better have a look at that handcuff. I thought he was going to break loose.”