“Steady,” said Hill in a low voice, “they’ll hear you.”
He was already standing with the rope round his neck. His ring and staple had not made a sound. His voice pulled me together, and next moment my task too was done.
“Ready?” I whispered.
“I’m O.K.,” he replied.
We shook hands.
“Take the strain,” I said.
Holding the rope above my head in my right hand, I bent my knees till it was taut about my neck. I could not see Hill, but knew he was doing the same. We did not want an inch of “drop” if we could avoid it.
The candle was ready in my left hand. I blew it out, and we swung off into space.
To anyone desirous of quitting this mortal coil we can offer one piece of sound advice—don’t try strangulation. Than hanging by the neck nothing more agonising can be imagined. In the hope of finding a comfortable way of placing the noose we had both experimented before leaving Yozgad, but no matter how we placed it we could never bear the pain for more than a fraction of a second. When we stepped off our table in the dark at Mardeen we simply had to bear it, and though we had arranged to grip the rope with one hand so as to take as much weight as possible off the neck until we heard Moïse at the door, the pain was excruciating. Moïse did not at once notice that our light had gone out. I revolved slowly on the end of my rope. My right arm began to give out and the rope bit deeper into my throat. My ears were singing. I wondered if I was going deaf, if I could hear him try the door in time to get my hand away, if he was ever going to open the door at all. It was impossible to say how long we hung thus, revolving in the dark. I suppose it was about 90 seconds, but it seemed like ten years.
“Hill, Jones, are you ready?” At last the Pimple had seen the signal.