"
She leant all her fragile weight against it, aided with the strength
of maddening fear. Her ears were strained for the sound in the lock.
When she heard the bolt click, she gasped and pressed forward again
with redoubled vigour as he slowly drew out his lacerated hand from
the crevice.
Then they both stood upright. Together they both drew a deep breath
as Traill turned the handle and opened the door. A physical sickness
made them weak. Janet half tumbled, half ran into the room. The length
of Traill's strides brought him even with her.
Sally was there. Sally was in the room. She lay crumpled on the bed,
her legs drawn up, twisted, bent; one arm thrown out covering her
face, her other hand gripping a corner of the bed-clothes, stretching
out from her in tautened creases. She looked as though some giant
hand had knotted her fragile body with fingers of iron.
With a cry, Janet bent over the bed. At her feet, Traill picked up
a little bottle, hurriedly read the label, and blindly put it in his
pocket.
"Uncover her face," he whispered; "take her arm away from her
face--she's choking herself."
"Choking herself!" Janet gently bent the arm back.
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