Sounds came to him, but at first he didn't call them sounds, for he had no word for them at all, and then, a moment later, he knew that they were sounds.
Now he could move one finger. Then a second finger.
He opened his eyes and there was light.
The sounds were voices and the voices were words and the words were thoughts.
It takes so long to figure things out, Sutton told himself.
"We should have tried a little harder," said a voice, "and a little longer. The trouble with us, Case, is that we have no patience."
"Patience wouldn't have done a bit of good," said Case. "He was convinced that we were bluffing. No matter what we'd done or said, he'd still have thought we were bluffing and we would have gotten nowhere. There was only one thing to do."
"Yes, I know," Pringle agreed. "Convince him that we weren't bluffing."
He made a sound of blowing out his breath. "Pity, too," he said. "He was such a bright young man."
They were silent for a time and now it was not life alone, but strength, that was flowing into Sutton. Strength to stand and walk, strength to lift his arms, strength to vent his anger. Strength to kill two men.