Amaryllis forced the corner of the coverlet between Fridji's teeth and held it there, keeping up the pressure of the other hand on the throat.
"That's what they did to me," she thought.
Dick stood beside her.
"Change with me," he whispered, and slid his left hand round the front of Dutch Fridji's neck. Amaryllis stood up.
By the hold of his left, Dick raised the woman almost to her feet and, measuring his distance, struck her with his right fist on the left side of the neck directly below the ear—a short, sharp blow, the sound of which affected the watching girl with a pang of physical sickness.
It might have been the noise made by a butcher flinging a slab of raw steak upon his block.
Dick let the woman's body gently back to the floor, and Amaryllis saw that she was unconscious as a corpse.
"Is she dead?" she said softly.
"For five minutes—p'r'aps ten," he answered. "Where's the key?"
Amaryllis picked it up from the floor.