Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. Aside from some loose coin and a trunk key, there was nothing in the pockets: no mail, no letter of credit, not even a tailor's label. ’ Upon which, she darted through the library door, galvanising both the sergeant and his two militiamen into action. And he had destroyed all this. He first met her when he had caught her smoking behind the Joliet LaudrO-Matic one cool overcast day in late August. " "I've been wondering, too. He had been reading Belfort Bax, and declared himself a convert. They were delighted. The rest were hieroglyphic characters, executed in red chalk and charcoal. Strict Catholics, and loyal to the backbone. “You see,” he said, “you are like an inaccessible gold-mine in all this sort of matter.
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