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." "Tell me," said the other, and he framed the face of the vulture between his large hands.

If he pressed the heels of those hands together bones would snap, and Haw-Haw Langley knew it.