That's what it is! They are nourishing their greed on the quivering flesh and the warm blood of the people--nothing else." Stevie swallowed the terrifying statement with an audible gulp, and at once, as though it had been swift poison, sank limply in a sitting posture on the steps of the kitchen door.
Michaelis gave no sign of having heard anything.

His lips seemed glued together for good; not a quiver passed over his heavy cheeks.

With troubled eyes he looked for his round, hard hat, and put it on his round head.

His round and obese body seemed to float low between the chairs under the sharp elbow of Karl Yundt.

The old terrorist, raising an uncertain and clawlike hand, gave a swaggering tilt to a black felt sombrero shading the hollows and ridges of his wasted face.