"That must be it," Thornwald agreed. "I'm a retired Police officer. They must think I'm here as a spy." He shook his head. "I've got to get out of here!"
"How are you going to do that?"
"Just wait and see." He cupped his hand. "Guard! Guard!"
He yelled a second time and a third. The sound of his shouting echoed down the prison corridor, reverberated from the walls hollowly. "Guard! Guard!"
"Okay," a bored voice said. "Quit yelling. What's the trouble in there?"
"It's my arm," Thornwald gasped. "It's haemorrhaging—I'm bleeding to death!"
"You that one-armed fellow they just brought in?"
"Yes, yes! Come on! Get me a doctor before I bleed to death!"
There was a note of desperate urgency in Thornwald's voice that was so convincing he could almost feel his stump throbbing.