"I will kill you!" Lantry let it slip out. He cursed himself. That was the worst possible thing to say.
Lantry lunged across the chair, clutching at McClure.
McClure was very logical. "It won't do you any good to kill me. You know that." They wrestled and held each other in a wild, toppling shuffle. Tables fell over, scattering articles. "You remember what happened in the morgue?"
"I don't care!" screamed Lantry.
"You didn't raise those dead, did you?"
"I don't care!" cried Lantry.
"Look here," said McClure, reasonably. "There will never be any more like you, ever, there's no use."
"Then I'll destroy all of you, all of you!" screamed Lantry.
"And then what? You'll still be alone, with no more like you about."
"I'll go to Mars. They have tombs there. I'll find more like myself!"