The Hanging ManFish Lane was an unpaved rut which ran out into the bog that was the upper end of Flushing Bay. This bog was furred with tall, coarse salt water grass, and along the Lane stood a few shacks of wood, tar paper and tin, most of these structural materials apparently having come from neighboring junk heaps.
A car crawled quietly into Fish Lane, a long, streamlined machine with a fishtail back and pants over the wheels. It stopped.
The man who first alighted from the machine had hands of startling size. Huge and knobby, they eclipsed the other proportions of their owner, who would weight in excess of two hundred and fifty pounds, and who was gaunt and bony.
Wearing a long, solemn, funereal–going expression, he asked of some one still in the car, "Fish Lane is where Doc said to
