There
was a sharp angle in his forehead, the lines of it meeting in the centre
and shelving up and down. One felt, unpleasantly, that there were heavy
muscles overlaying that forehead. One felt that to the touch it would be
a pad of flesh, and it gave to Mac Strann, more than any other feature,
a peculiar impression of resistless physical power.
In the catalogue of his features, indeed, there was nothing severely
objectionable; but out of it came a feeling of _too much strength!_ A
glance at his body reinsured the first thought. It was not normal. His
shirt bulged tightly at the shoulders with muscles. He was not
tall--inches shorter than his brother Jerry, for instance--but the bulk
of his body was incredible. His torso was a veritable barrel that bulged
out both in the chest and the back. And even the tremendous thighs of
Mac Strann were perceptibly bowed out by the weight which they had to
carry. And there was about his management of his arms a peculiar
awkwardness which only the very strongest of men exhibit--as if they
were burdened by the weight of their mere dangling hands.
This giant, having placed his eyes in shadow, peered for a long moment
at Haw-Haw Langley, but very soon his glance began to waver. It flashed
towards the wall--it came back and rested upon Langley again. He was
like a dog, restless under a steady stare. And as Haw-Haw Langley noted
this a glitter of joy came in his beady eyes.
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