"What was it?"
"A man."
Langley edged back towards the door.
"What with?"
"A gun."
And Langley saw the danger that was coming even before Mac Strann moved. He gave a shrill yelp of terror and whirled and sprang for the open. But Mac Strann sprang after him and reached. His whole body seemed to stretch like an elastic thing, and his arm grew longer. The hand fastened on the back of Langley, plucked him up, and jammed him against the wall. Haw-Haw crumpled to the floor.
He gasped: "It weren't me, Mac. For Gawd's sake, it weren't me!"
His face was a study. There was abject terror in it, and yet there was also a sort of grisly joy, and his eyes feasted on the silent agony of Mac Strann.
"Where?" asked Mac Strann.
"Mac," pleaded the vulture who cringed on the floor, "gimme your word you ain't goin' to hold it agin me."