“Nothing has happened—nothing!... We’ve been fed like animals in a zoo.... I dozed fitfully during the night. We’ve talked and talked, and waited—waited.... This waiting! Evan, I—it’s the waiting which is so terrible.”
“There are,” said Evan, with self-accusation in his voice, “men who would escape from this place. They would do it with seeming ease. Undoubtedly there is a certain technique, but I do not possess it. I—er—on an occasion I attended a showing of motion pictures. There was an individual who—without the least apparent difficulty, accomplished things to which escape from this room would be mere child’s play.”
“To-night,” said Carmel, “the sheriff will come to this hotel, and find us here.”
“What must you think of me?” Evan said, desperately. He turned in his chair and stared through the window toward the woods which surrounded the hotel upon three sides, his shoulders drooping with humiliation. Carmel was at his side in an instant, her hands upon his shoulders.
“Evan!... Evan! You must not accuse yourself. No man could do anything. You have done all—more than all—any man could do.... We—whatever comes, we shall face it together.... I—I shall always be proud of you.”
“I—I want you to be proud of me. I—the man will be here with our food in half an hour.... Would you mind standing at some distance?”
She withdrew, puzzled. Evan drew from his pocket the stocking with the doorknob in its toe and studied it severely. “This,” said he, “is our sole reliance. It has a most unpromising look. I have never seen an implement less calculated to arouse hope.”
He edged his chair closer to the bed, grasped the top of the sock, and scowled at a spot on the coverlid. He shook his head, reached for his handkerchief, and, folding it neatly, laid it upon the spot at which he had scowled.
“A—er—target,” he explained.
Then, drawing back his arm, he brought down the improvised slung-shot with a thud upon the bed.