But worse than this torture was the monstrous nature of their afflictions.

It was mysterious, horrible; they believed themselves to be dying and screamed in abysmal terror of the unknown.
Gray squeezed again the rubber bulb that he had carried in his hand these last several miles, ejecting from it the last few drops of its contents, then he opened the car door, stepped out of it and stood over his strangling victims.

He kicked Mallow's revolver off the road, and, holding his breath, relieved the other high-jacker of his weapon.

This he flung after the first, then he withdrew himself a few paces and lighted a cigarette, for a raw, pungent odor offended his nostrils.
Both of the bawling bandits reeked of it, but their plight left him indifferent.

They reminded him of a pair of horses he had seen disemboweled by a bursting shell, but he felt much less pity for them.
His lack of concern made itself felt finally.