The two pressed him toward the block and forced his head low. The semicircular hollow was cunningly contrived to fit any neck. The long gashes in the wood pulled and sucked at his throat. The executioner raised his ax and brought it down. Lampley's head rolled in the sawdust beyond the scaffold.
The two seized him and bound his arms. From a distance he heard the chaplain's breaking voice. They hustled him between the stone walls and dragged him up the gallows' steps. The hood was dropped over his head, then the rope. He felt the hardness of the knot against his left ear. There was no spittle in his mouth. They pushed his legs firmly into place over the trap. He heard the snick of the knife as it cut the cords. He swung in a narrowing circle.
They wrapped the thin cord deftly round and round his body, pinioning his arms cruelly to his sides. They slid him down the incline beneath the guillotine. When he was suitably in place the blade descended swiftly.
They seated him in the chair and strapped the electrodes to his leg and head. They pushed him into the sealed chamber and watched through greedy slits while the cyanide pellets were released. They tied the bandage over his eyes and stepped back just before the fusilade.
He lay broken on the rough stones. He remembered the touch of the golden horn and began breathing again. He remembered the island under the earth and his heart resumed beating. He remembered the young girl in the hotel and he could see and hear.
He rose slowly and viewed his bodies after their agonies. He walked past the bullet-chipped wall, the gas-chamber, electric chair, guillotine, gallows. His feet scuffed the bloody sawdust by the headsman's block.
The elevator stood empty and unattended. He went into the car, the door closed behind him and the car shot up. Again it slowed as it passed the darkened tiles in the upper reaches of the sub-basements, so that it was once more moving sluggishly as the lobby and the hall above came in sight. It stopped amid the elegance of the third floor, and the doors opened of themselves.
The elegance had become shabby beyond restoration. The thick carpet was worn to the threads. Woodwork and panelling no longer contrasted, they were the same uniform color of age. The chairs and sofas were ripped and tattered, their stuffing protruded like ruptures. The doll was in the same place and position; a pendulous belly and two elongated breasts had been sewed on with coarse stitches.
The iron railing around the quadrangle leaned outward; some of the balusters were missing. The concourse below was gone; he looked down on the dingy lobby, past the visible portion of the second floor hiding the reception desk. He turned away; the doors which had borne the esoteric numerals were blank, their panels warped and sagging.