She gazed at him. Her mouth was extraordinarily expressive. ‘Well,’ he said at length, ‘I’ll stay in the area here. You yell if you need help. S’help me I’ll put a slug through your neck, Barrows, if you try anything.’ He locked the barred door behind the girl.
She waited until he stepped away and then went to the prisoner. ‘Hip,’ she murmured. ‘Hip Barrows.’
His dull eyes slid in their sockets until they approximated her direction. The eyes closed and opened in a slow, numb blink.
She knelt beside him. ‘Mr Barrows,’ she whispered, ‘you don’t know me. I told them I was your cousin. I want to help you.’
He was silent.
She said, ‘I’m going to get you out of here. Don’t you want to get out?’
For a long moment he watched her face. Then his eyes went to the locked door and back to her face again.
She touched his forehead, his cheek. She pointed at the dirty sling. ‘Does it hurt much?’
His eyes lingered, withdrew from her face, found the bandage. With effort, they came up again. She asked, ‘Aren’t you going to say anything? Don’t you want me to help?’
He was silent for so long that she rose. ‘I’d better go. Don’t forget me. I’ll help you.’ She turned to the door.