I began to feel about Ivery as I had felt about the three devils of the Black Stone who had hunted me before the war, and as I never felt about any other Hun.

The men we fought at the Front and the men I had run across in the Greenmantle business, even old Stumm himself, had been human miscreants.

They were formidable enough, but you could gauge and calculate their capacities.

But this Ivery was like a poison gas that hung in the air and got into unexpected crannies and that you couldn't fight in an upstanding way.
Till then, in spite of Blenkiron's solemnity, I had regarded him simply as a problem.

But now he seemed an intimate and omnipresent enemy, intangible, too, as the horror of a haunted house.