"S'welp me," wailed the prisoner, "I didn't 'ear nuffin'."
Harver chuckled throatily.
"I'll s'welp you," he said, "if you don't remember something. Who told you to come here?"
"S'welp me—"
Harver drove his fist into the man's chest, sending him reeling back against the wall.
"I promised I'd s'welp you," he said, "and I have. Now, are you going to talk?"
He followed up his victim with measured, ponderous strides, and the slighter man cowered back. Arne and Keld and Ganning stood watching dispassionately. The prisoner shrank away, his face contorted with terror. And as Harver came within striking distance again and his fist went back for another blow, Albert George voiced a sharp, shrill yelp of panic.
"S'welp me!"
He ducked frantically, and Harver's fist smashed shatteringly into the wall. George scuttled into a corner and crouched there, but Harver turned like an enraged bull and came after him.
"I'll talk," screamed the prisoner. "Don't hit me again—"