CHAPTER XVITHE LAST ROUND
Never did the incongruity of war strike Worrals more forcibly than at seven o’clock that evening, when she mounted the stairs to Bill’s room with a covered dish on a tray. The dish contained thirty feet of thin but strong cotton cord, and a file, both supplied by von Brandisch. There were moments when it seemed to Worrals that she was engaged in a foolish practical joke rather than a desperate battle for life.
She had one thing to be thankful for: von Brandisch had not accompanied her on this occasion. In her presence he had rung up the Unteroffizier, and after giving him precise instructions ordered him to assist Worrals by all the means in his power.
“Report back to me here as soon as you have taken in the rope,” he told Worrals coldly as she left the office
