Renfield's neck craned back and forth at all the arguments and proposed lynches.

"No, no ... not the Master. Mustn't lynch the master. Good master ... sweet master ... gives us ... the gift. HE PROMISED! PROMISED ME!"

He stumbles forward, rolling like a bowling ball end over end, arms wobbling out to the sides, coming to a stop at Murska's feet.

"You cannot be the wolf .... the master promised me the power. You cheat! You deceitful ... rancid ... one-eyed ... PIRATE!"