Doubtless they will listen and have pity; but here there is none else that will.' He tried to speak, but that part of the shroud which bound his jaws, held firm and would not let him.

He tried to lift imploring hands, but they were crossed upon his breast and tied.

I said-- 'Shout, Franz Adler; make the sleepers in the distant streets hear you and bring help.

Shout--and lose no time, for there is little to lose.
What, you cannot?
That is a pity; but it is no matter--it does not always bring help.

When you and your cousin murdered a helpless woman and child in a cabin in Arkansas--my wife, it was, and my child!--they shrieked for help, you remember; but it did no good; you remember that it did no good, is it not so?
Your teeth chatter--then why cannot you shout?
Loosen the bandages with your hands--then you can.