the door. "I can
manage him a while yet." Her further words came with a rush. "But I
wanted to tell you--I had a faint plan. If I could get hold of the
anaesthetic--the vial of stuff that smells like cloves--"

The door was closing now, and the two men knew she was moving down the
corridor. They listened in vain for her to complete what she had been
saying. Just before the door clicked shut, Jim jammed his foot in it,
preventing it from closing.

"Gee, that girl has courage!" Clee murmured.

For a moment the two men looked at each other. Jim was thinking about
the opened door, and the chance they had to get out. But Clee's mind
was on something else.

"Well, Jim," he said, "you and I have a nasty job ahead."

Jim looked at Clee wonderingly as he took out his pipe and stuck it in
the crack of the door, allowing him to remove his foot. Clee explained
to him what Xantra had told him with the thought-sending helmets;
reminded him of what they had learned from Vivian about the lumps on
their necks. After he had finished he said quietly but decisively:

"Now, we're going to try and remove whatever is under these lumps.
Have you got anything sharp? Your knife? Something with an edge on
it?"

It would mean escape from the domination of Xantra's will!--from his
terrible stabbing punishment!--if they could remove them! Jim breathed
a little quicker in his excitement.

"But once we do it--if we _can_ do it--it'll mean that we'll have to
make our break to escape right away," he reminded Clee. "We'll be
caught if Xantra wills us to come to him and we don't appear!"

"You know what will happen to Vivian if we delay the attempt." Clee
reminded him levelly: and Jim knew that Clee was right--that their
break for freedom must start right then and there....

* * * * *

He looked through his pockets and produced some cigarettes, matches, a
pipe, a nailfile and some utterly useless odds and ends. Clee's hands
came out of his pockets empty. "I've got nothing at all," he said--and
picked up the nailfile and looked at it questioningly. "We'll have to
use this, I guess.... Well, I'm first."

He lay face down on the floor and loosened his collar. Quietly, he
made several suggestions. "Light a match and heat the tip in the
flame," he said. "The point's pretty dull, but cut as deep and quick
and clean as you can. If I yell, pay no attention; I'll try to hold
still. Unless it bleeds very much, best not