The wretched bird squawked once more, feebly, flapped its wings, and clawed the air, just as a second pair of arms reached out and sliced with a knife.

The cock's head flew off upon the tiles.

Hot blood spattered on Heywood's cheek.

Half blinded, but not daring to move, he saw the knife withdrawn, and a huge goblet held out to catch the flow.

Then arms, goblet, and convulsive wings jerked out of sight, and the shutter slid home.
"Twice they've not seen me," thought Heywood.