k's" men!

For nearly a minute they stood there looking at him, without moving. For
nearly a minute he stared back at them as if they had hypnotized him;
his arms half lifted, his head bent forward, his mouth hanging open. A
sickening feeling of terror caused his hands to tremble and his knees to
feel as though they were giving way under him.

He knew they were going to "bash" him, probably kill him. He might have
been able to handle "Slim" alone, but those two powerful
bruisers--they'd kill him, sure. He checked an impulse to scream. They'd
throttle him if he did. Maybe he could talk himself out of the trap.

Twice before he managed to gasp out "Slim!" his lips formed the word,
but no sound came from them.

"Shut your -------- mouth," said "Slim" through his teeth.

He threw himself back as though he expected the words to be followed by
a rain of blows. His back was flat against the wall. If he could only
get around to the window he could dart out and down the fire escape.
Divining his one and only hope of escape, one of the "bashers" sprang
forward, grabbed him by an arm and whirled him into a chair. He cringed
as the bruiser stood over him, his big fists clenched and ready to
strike.

"Get back, Louie," he heard "Slim" order sharply. Louie stepped away
from him and "Slim" faced him.

"Murphy," said "Slim," speaking slowly, "you've got one chance to get
out of this."

"What've I done, 'Slim'?" his voice shook. In his terror he could only
think of trying to "stall."

"Don't pull that stuff on me, you damn stool-pigeon," snapped "Slim."
"You know what I want from you. Who was that with you last night? Come
on, spit it out."

"What're ya talkin' about, 'Slim'?"

"I told you not to pull that stuff. It won't get you anything, see? We
know you were in it. You -------- fool, didn't you know we'd find out
about you?"

"Ah, 'Slim,' ya got me wrong, I ain't----"

A hand clutched his hair. He could feel the finger nails digging into
his scalp. With a jerk that shook him to his feet Louie threw him half
out of the chair.

"Cut it, Louie," he heard "Slim" say as he remained where he had been
thrown, fearful of lifting his head.

For a minute there was a dreadful silence.

"Murphy," said "Slim," "do you remember what happened to 'Gat' Mollwitz
and 'Beanie' Wilson?"

Did he remember? A nauseating feeling gripped him. "Gat" and "Beanie"
had defied the "Gink" and they were found one morning beaten and kicked,
b