Varney ran his tongue over the wreck of his teeth. ‘Are you bribing me?’ he asked. Mr Vandemar had picked up the morning-star. He was pulling the chain apart, with his free hand, link by link, and dropping the bits of twisted metal on to the floor. Chink. ‘No,’ said Mr Vandemar. Chink. ‘We’re intimidating you.’ Chink. ‘And if you don’t do what Mister Croup says, we’re . . .’ chink ‘. . . hurting you . . .’ chink ‘. . . very badly, before we’re . . .’ chink ‘. . . killing you, even badlier.’ ‘Ah,’ said Varney. ‘Then I’m working for you, aren’t I?’ ‘Yes, you are,’ said Mr Croup. ‘I’m afraid we
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