.

.

well, just pick it up, that's a good fellow." "I'll no." "Then I shall kill you," Corliss went on, in the same calm, passionless way, at the same time drawing his hunting-knife from its sheath.
"And if I dinna ?" the Scotsman queried stoutly, though cowering away.
Corliss pressed gently with the knife.

The point of the steel entered Tommy's back just where the heart should be, passed slowly through the shirt, and bit into the skin.

Nor did it stop there; neither did it quicken, but just as slowly held on its way.