tormented, skull-like face was
as vivid in his mind as though it had been straight in front of his eyes.
Suddenly he realized what was the matter. The man was dying of starvation.
The same thought seemed to occur almost simultaneously to everyone in the
cell. There was a very faint stirring all the way round the bench. The eyes
of the chinless man kept flitting towards the skull-faced man, then turning
guiltily away, then being dragged back by an irresistible attraction.
Presently he began to fidget on his seat. At last he stood up, waddled
clumsily across the cell, dug down into the pocket of his overalls, and,
with an abashed air, held out a grimy piece of bread to the skull-faced
man.
There was a furious, deafening roar from the telescreen. The chinless
man jumped in his tracks. The skull-faced man had quickly thrust his hands
behind his back, as though demonstrating to all the world that he refused
the gift.
'Bumstead!' roared the voice. '2713 Bumstead J! Let fall that piece of
bread!'
The chinless man dropped the piece of bread on the floor.
'Remain standing where you are,' said the voice. 'Face the door. Make
no movement.'
The chinless man obeyed. His large pouchy cheeks were quivering
uncontrollably. The door clanged open. As the young officer entered and
stepped aside, there emerged from behind him a short stumpy guard with
enormous arms and shoulders. He took his stand opposite the chinless man,
and then, at a signal from the officer, let free a frightful blow, with all
the weight of