struggle to reverse the machinery. Meanwhile the slab of rock trundled inexorably outwards between the blades, and in a few seconds Ian would be compelled to hang over the precipice by his fingertips.
‘Doctor, please do something!’ Ian begged, his voice cracking with panic.
‘You couldn’t climb over the bars onto the other side?’
the struggling Doctor suggested doubtfully.
‘Doctor, they’re razor sharp!’
The Doctor peered more closely. ‘Dear me, so they are.
How very inconvenient for you. Well, it’s no good trying to climb over them.’
Ian jerked his head towards the rings. ‘Can’t you do anything with those?’ he pleaded, as he felt his heels reach the edge of the ledge.
His fingers found a small crevice in the slab and he managed to work them into the hand-hold just as his feet were shoved off the ledge into thin air. ‘Doctor, I can’t hold on much longer...’ he gasped, his body sagging and his arms stretching painfully under the weight.
‘I am doing my best,’ the Doctor assured him, experimenting with manipulating both rings at the same time while still hanging on to one of them. ‘Kindly remember, Chesterton, that it was you who triggered this fiendish mechanism.’ With the torch jammed under his chin, the Doctor was forced to perform the most ape-like contortions in order to shine the beam onto the rings above his head. If Ian had not been trapped in such a perilous predicament, he would have been helpless with laughter.
About fifteen centimetres beyond the edge, the section of wall abruptly stopped moving and Ian was stranded in mid-air above the yawning abyss. Below him the monster continued its hungry bellowing. Unluckily the two bladed barriers stuck out further than the movable slab, so Ian could not even attempt to swing himself round the edge of the slab and back onto the narrow ledge beside the Doctor.
Ian’s fingers were growing number every second. He tried to call out but his dry throat would only emit a croak of despair.
‘Use my coat!’ the Doctor suddenly shouted. Wriggling out of it, he hooked his arm through one of the rings and leaned out as far as he dared to fling his frock coat over the pointed ends of the blades. ‘The material’s pretty thick. It should protect your hands long enough for you to swing round here onto the ledge.’
Blinking the sweat from his eyes, Ian squinted sceptically at the coat draped over the murderous blades.
He had no sensation left in his hands now but he could feel the monster’s hot rancid breath on his legs as it reared in the darkness beneath him. It seemed that he had nothing to lose. ‘This’ll never work...’ he gasped, grabbing at the coat with one hand.
The Doctor grasped the other side of the coat with his free hand and held it firm. ‘Now, my boy, swing!’ he commanded.
Ian nearly fell. As he tightened his grip on the coat sleeve the cramped fingers of his other hand tore away the brittle crevice in the mobile slab and his body lurched sickeningly against the blades. But the coat material protected him and he ended up hanging with both hands clutching the musty old garment.
‘Pull yourself up and round this way!’
Valiantly, Ian hauled himself hand over hand up the Doctor’s coat and round the end of the blades. The Doctor seized his arm and Ian jumped for the narrow ledge with a leap worthy of a swashbuckling hero. His flailing toes found the thin ledge and he landed breathless and soaked in sweat next to the panting old man. The Doctor moved back to the first ring, leaving Ian clinging weakly to the troublesome second ring.
‘Thanks, Doctor... Thought I’d had it...’ Ian whispered, trying to avoid the temptation to look down into the bellowing abyss. When he had recovered a little he peered at the rings and then at the blades and the moving section of wall.
‘It looks like something out of Edgar Allan Poe,’ he muttered, trembling at the thought of what he had just escaped.
‘Poe?
‘Doctor, please do something!’ Ian begged, his voice cracking with panic.
‘You couldn’t climb over the bars onto the other side?’
the struggling Doctor suggested doubtfully.
‘Doctor, they’re razor sharp!’
The Doctor peered more closely. ‘Dear me, so they are.
How very inconvenient for you. Well, it’s no good trying to climb over them.’
Ian jerked his head towards the rings. ‘Can’t you do anything with those?’ he pleaded, as he felt his heels reach the edge of the ledge.
His fingers found a small crevice in the slab and he managed to work them into the hand-hold just as his feet were shoved off the ledge into thin air. ‘Doctor, I can’t hold on much longer...’ he gasped, his body sagging and his arms stretching painfully under the weight.
‘I am doing my best,’ the Doctor assured him, experimenting with manipulating both rings at the same time while still hanging on to one of them. ‘Kindly remember, Chesterton, that it was you who triggered this fiendish mechanism.’ With the torch jammed under his chin, the Doctor was forced to perform the most ape-like contortions in order to shine the beam onto the rings above his head. If Ian had not been trapped in such a perilous predicament, he would have been helpless with laughter.
About fifteen centimetres beyond the edge, the section of wall abruptly stopped moving and Ian was stranded in mid-air above the yawning abyss. Below him the monster continued its hungry bellowing. Unluckily the two bladed barriers stuck out further than the movable slab, so Ian could not even attempt to swing himself round the edge of the slab and back onto the narrow ledge beside the Doctor.
Ian’s fingers were growing number every second. He tried to call out but his dry throat would only emit a croak of despair.
‘Use my coat!’ the Doctor suddenly shouted. Wriggling out of it, he hooked his arm through one of the rings and leaned out as far as he dared to fling his frock coat over the pointed ends of the blades. ‘The material’s pretty thick. It should protect your hands long enough for you to swing round here onto the ledge.’
Blinking the sweat from his eyes, Ian squinted sceptically at the coat draped over the murderous blades.
He had no sensation left in his hands now but he could feel the monster’s hot rancid breath on his legs as it reared in the darkness beneath him. It seemed that he had nothing to lose. ‘This’ll never work...’ he gasped, grabbing at the coat with one hand.
The Doctor grasped the other side of the coat with his free hand and held it firm. ‘Now, my boy, swing!’ he commanded.
Ian nearly fell. As he tightened his grip on the coat sleeve the cramped fingers of his other hand tore away the brittle crevice in the mobile slab and his body lurched sickeningly against the blades. But the coat material protected him and he ended up hanging with both hands clutching the musty old garment.
‘Pull yourself up and round this way!’
Valiantly, Ian hauled himself hand over hand up the Doctor’s coat and round the end of the blades. The Doctor seized his arm and Ian jumped for the narrow ledge with a leap worthy of a swashbuckling hero. His flailing toes found the thin ledge and he landed breathless and soaked in sweat next to the panting old man. The Doctor moved back to the first ring, leaving Ian clinging weakly to the troublesome second ring.
‘Thanks, Doctor... Thought I’d had it...’ Ian whispered, trying to avoid the temptation to look down into the bellowing abyss. When he had recovered a little he peered at the rings and then at the blades and the moving section of wall.
‘It looks like something out of Edgar Allan Poe,’ he muttered, trembling at the thought of what he had just escaped.
‘Poe?
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