He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. "Rather a devil," groaned her son, "to have done this. I felt his heart. " "You have extradition papers?" "What sort of a detective do you think I am?" countered O'Higgins. A queer game this: he could not move directly as in an ordinary case of manhunt. Now, Sir. Your name. "Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. I was helpless.
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