d**k, with his ear to the floor, heard the words “Frog says he’s got to die,” and his cracked lips parted in a grin.
“Have you heard him moving about?” asked Hagn.
“No, he’s asleep, I expect,” said another voice. “We shall have to wait for light. We can’t do it in the dark. We shall be killing one another.”
This view commended itself to most of the men present. d**k counted six voices. He struck a match for another survey, and again his eye fell upon the cable. And then an inspiration came to him. Moving stealthily across the floor, he reached up, and, gripping the cable, pulled on it steadily. Under his weight, the supporting insulator broke loose. By great good luck it fell upon the heap of rubbish in the fireplace and made no sound. For the next half-hour he worked feverishly, unwrap
