He was getting into his clothes mechanically, his face curiously ashen, his eyes neither horrified nor startled, but with a stunned look in them.

He did not speak when he went to the door and out into the night.

David followed, and in a moment they stood close to the thing that was hanging where Tavish's meat should have been.

The moon threw a vivid sort of spotlight on it.

It was grotesque and horrible--very bad to look at, and unforgettable.