That night he surreptitiously carried a piece of new rope home. He had already discovered that new rope would not slip like old, smoothly worn rope. In the secrecy of his small chamber he essayed the simple task of tying his own feet. His heart beat rapidly as he pulled the knot tight; then he laughed vacuously and told himself it was all a game. It ended where it began, merely a pastime. He did not attempt to duplicate the yeggmen’s knots further that night.
He would not concede that he stood in fear of the trooping suggestions now besetting him and eagerly offering aid. Yet he fought hard to put the thoughts from his mind during the morning hours and felt extremely virtuous as he handed the down agent the customary parcel of money.
That night he relaxed and deftly tied his feet, passed the line about his waist and clumsily wound it around his wrists. He remained awake more than an hour trying to solve the rest of the problem—how to fasten the rope about his wrists so it would be impossible to free himself and then secure the end about his neck. He decided it couldn’t be done, and fell asleep.
Toward morning, when but half awake, he heard a voice advise—
“Tie the rope first about the neck.”
He popped up to a sitting posture and stared wildly about the dark chamber. He knew it was a suggestion from his inner self, yet so distinctly did he hear the words it seemed as if they must have been voiced aloud. Throughout the early morning he brooded over the suggestion. At first he could not discern any sense in it. Subconsciously, however, he had often noticed the lumberman’s trick of using a dove-hitch—two half-hitches—and gradually the recollection thrust itself above the threshold of consciousness. He believed he had succeeded.
He must make the rope fast about his neck while standing, then secure it about his ankles with practically no slack, continuing the loose end to his waist and tying it, taking care to have it pass outside the rope running from neck to heels. Then by throwing back his head and heels he would obtain enough slack to make the two double loops, or half-hitches, through which he could work his wrists.
The last operation, he realized, would demand great care, as he must thrust his hands in from opposite directions until wrist overlapped wrist. If it would work he would dismiss the matter and resume the pleasing visions of spending the money.
The morning’s paper contained a glaring account of a daring yegg robbery at the Centerville station. The agent had been trussed up and some fifteen hundred dollars taken.