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Exhausted by the effort； his head sank forward again。 He was a little； but only a little； exaggerating the extent of his physical collapse。 Anything to gain time and anything to defer the next searing pain。
'Ah； my dear fellow； I had forgotten to tell you。' Le Chiffre smiled wolfishly。 'We met after our little game at the Casino and you were such a sportsman that you agreed we would have one more run through the pack between the two of us。 It was a gallant gesture。 Typical of an English gentleman。
'Unfortunately you lost and this upset you so much that you decided to leave Royale immediately for an unknown destination。 Like the gentleman you are； you very kindly gave me a note explaining the circumstances so that I would have no difficulty in cashing your cheque。 You see； dear boy； everything has been thought of and you need have no fears on my account。' He chuckled fatly。
'Now shall we continue？ I have all the time in the world and truth to tell I am rather interested to see how long a man can stand this particular form of 。 。 。 er 。 。 。 encouragement。' He rattled the harsh cane on the floor。
So that was the score； thought Bond； with a final sinking of the heart。 The 'unknown destination' would be under the ground or under the sea； or perhaps； more simply； under the crashed Bentley。 Well； if he had to die anyway； he might as well try it the hard way。 He had no hope that Mathis or Leiter would get to him in time； but at least there was a chance that they would catch up with Le Chiffre before he could get away。 It must be getting on for seven。 The car might have been found by now。 It was a choice of evils； but the longer Le Chiffre continued the torture the more likely he would be revenged。
Bond lifted his head and looked Le Chiffre in the eyes。
The china of the whites was now veined with red。 It was like looking at two blackcurrants poached in blood。 The rest of the wide face was yellowish except where a thick black stubble covered the moist skin。 The upward edges of black coffee at the corners of the mouth gave his expression a false smile and the whole face was faintly striped by the light through the Venetian blinds。
'No；' he said flatly； '。 。 。 you 。 。 。'
Le Chiffre grunted and set to work again with savage fury。 Occasionally he snarled like a wild beast。
After ten minutes Bond had fainted； blessedly。
Le Chiffre at once stopped。 He wiped some sweat from his face with a circular motion of his disengaged hand。 Then he looked at his watch and seemed to make up his mind。
He got up and stood behind the inert； dripping body。 There was no colour in Bond's face or anywhere on his body above the waist。 There was a faint flutter of his skin above the heart。 Otherwise he might have been dead。
Le Chiffre seized Bond's ears and harshly twisted them。 Then he leant forward and slapped his cheeks hard several times。 Bond's head rolled from side to side with each blow。 Slowly his breathing became deeper。 An animal groan came from his lolling mouth。
Le Chiffre took a glass of coffee and poured some into Bond's mouth and threw the rest in his face。 Bond's eyes slowly opened。
Le Chiffre returned to his chair and waited。 He lit a cigarette and contemplated the spattered pool of blood on the floor beneath the inert body opposite。
Bond groaned again pitifully。 It was an inhuman sound。 His eyes opened and he gazed dully at his torturer。
Le Chiffre spoke。
'That is all； Bond。 We will now finish with you。 You understand？ Not kill you； but finish with you。 And then we will have in the girl and see if something can be got out of the remains of the two of you。'
He reached towards the table。
'Say good…bye to it； Bond。'
CHAPTER 18 … A CRAG…LIKE FACE
It was extraordinary to hear the third voice。 The hour's ritual had only demanded a duologue against the horrible noise of the torture。 Bond's dimmed senses hardly took it in。 Then suddenly he was half…way back to consciousness。 He found he could see and hear again。 He could hear the dead silence after the one quiet word from the doorway。 He could see Le Chiffre's head slowly e up and the expression of blank astonishment； of innocent amazement； slowly give way to fear。
'Shtop；' had said the voice； quietly。
Bond heard slow steps approaching behind his chair。
'Dhrop it；' said the voice。
Bond saw Le Chiffre's hand open obediently and the knife fall with a clatter to the floor。
He tried desperately to read into Le Chiffre's face what was happening behind him； but all he saw was blind inprehension and terror。 Le Chiffre's mouth worked； but only a high…pitched 'eek' came from it。 His heavy cheeks trembled as he tried to collect enough saliva in his mouth to say something； ask something。 His hands fluttered vaguely in his lap。 One of them made a slight movement towards his pocket； but instantly fell back。 His round staring eyes had lowered for a split second and Bond guessed there was a gun trained on him。
There was a moment's silence。
'SMERSH。'
The word came almost with a sigh。 It came with a downward cadence as if nothing else had to be said。 It was the final explanation。 The last word of all。
'No；' said Le Chiffre。 'No。 I 。 。 。' His voice tailed off。
Perhaps he was going to explain； to apologize； but what he must have seen in the other's face made it all useless。
'Your two men。 Both dead。 You are a fool and a thief and a traitor。 I have been sent from the Soviet Union to eliminate you。 You are fortunate that I have only time to shoot you。 If it was possible； I was instructed that you should die most painfully。 We cannot see the end of the trouble you have caused。'
The thick voice stopped。 There was silence in the room save for the rasping breath of Le Chiffre。
Somewhere outside a bird began to sing and there were other small noises from the awakening countryside。 The bands of sunlight were stronger and the sweat on Le Chiffre's face glistened brightly。
'Do you plead guilty？'
Bond wrestled with his consciousness。 He screwed up his eyes and tried to shake his head to clear it； but his whole nervous system was numbed and no message was transmitted to his muscles。 He could just keep his focus on the great pale face in front of him and on its bulging eyes。
A thin string of saliva crept from the open mouth and hung down from the chin。
'Yes；' said the mouth。
There was a sharp 'phut'； no louder than a bubble of air escaping from a tube of toothpaste。 No other noise at all； and suddenly Le Chiffre had grown another eye； a third eye on a level with the other two； right where the thick nose started to jut out below the forehead。 It was a small black eye； without eyelashes or eyebrows。
For a second the three eyes looked out across the room and then the whole face seemed to slip and go down on one knee。 The two outer eyes turned trembling up towards the ceiling。 Then the heavy head fell sideways and the right shoulder and finally the whole upper part of the body lurched over the arm of the chair as if Le Chiffre were going to be sick。 But there was only a short rattle of his heels on the ground and then no other movement。
The tall back of the chair looked impassively out across the dead body in its