I got slowly to my knees, my right arm useless. There was| no keeping her off. She raised up, swearing softly, her blonde hair down to her shoulders. She came back at me. I was ready for
her, and socked her in the ribs with a left that travelled about three inches.
She went over, completed a somersault and was on her feet before I could get to mine. She scared me. She was as tough and as dangerous as any man.
This time she didn’t rush me, but spun on her heel and ran towards the grill gate. I was after her in a lurching run. Whatever happened she mustn’t give the alarm.
I grabbed her as her finger was reaching for the red button of the alarm bell. I tried to close with her.
She clutched me to her, fell straight back, her feet in my stomach. I shot over her head, crashed against the grill. By the time I sorted myself out, she was climbing over me to get at the bell. I got my hands around her waist and pulled her down. She bit, punched and scratched. We rolled over. I pounded her body. At first she hit back, but after three or four of my punches she tried to keep them out with her elbows. They were hurting her as I meant them to hurt. She was panting and sobbing with rage. I caught hold of her throat, but she dug her thumbs in my eyes. I let go. I heaved away from her, my eyes streaming. She staggered to her feet, came at me again, wobbly, but out to finish me. I set myself and hit her with a long, raking left in her throat.
Her mouth opened, and she gave a thin wail as she fell against the door of the mad woman’s cell.
There was a moment’s pause. I, on my knees, she, with her shoulders against the bars, her knees buckling; then two greedy, claw-like hands shot between the bars and closed round her throat. She gave a wild scream as she felt the hands touch her. Her scream was throttled back into her throat almost before it sounded.
The mad woman, yammering with excitement, pulled backwards. The bars were a shade too narrow for Edna’s head to pass through. She couldn’t scream, because the mad woman’s hands were squeezing her windpipe. She kicked and twisted. One of her shoes flew off and hit me in the face. Her knees burst through her stockings. I couldn’t move. I stood against the grill, shivering, staring.
The mad woman continued to pull, bracing hard with her feet. Edna tried to reach inside the cell, but her arms weren’t long enough. She looked at me, her eyes starting out of her head, her tongue swelling in her mouth. The mad woman gave a sudden jerk. A horrible muffled sound came from Edna’s throat as her head passed through the bars, leaving skin behind. One side of