Archie Binns

“ The two remaining men in the back of the car were silent as shadows. In the emergency seat the other man had never moved nor turned his head.
“I wish we could meet some more cars,” the driver thought. He put on the brakes as the buzzer snarled again.
“Driver, I want to get out here.”
The repeated sound of the buzzer and the voice was maddening. Again he stopped between the ugly walls of darkness, letting the seventh passenger out.
“Seven from nine makes two,” he told himself as the bus lunged on. “If they start anything, I might be able to handle the two of them. ”

“ The passenger began tapping on the foot-boards with his feet, keeping time with the swaying car. Butler tightened his grip on the wheel, shivering and snarling like an animal in a cage.
"If you are Mister Death, then it's the cemetery for you. But you might tell me what's the idea of taking me along. By God!" he burst out; "if you carried a scythe, as you are supposed to, instead of that pistol, I would take a chance on seeing if we both went there!"
"Death has tricked people before," the passenger observed coolly. ”

“ Because he felt that he must do or say something, he observed: "Well, better introduce yourself, since we are riding together."
"If you wish,” was the cool reply. "My name is Death."
"I didn't quite get it."
"Death!" ”