Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 22, 2025
While Cooper and Collins waited for their hats and coats, Fanwell darted into the telephone booth and called up Police Headquarters. "I've got him roped," he said. "If Britz calls up tell him he's on the way to Julia Strong's apartment." The bracing night air did not dispel Collins's melancholy. He walked with head bent, a woe-begone expression engraved on his face.
Collins mentioned in connection with the Whitmore case?" asked the detective innocently. "Yes, that's me!" mumbled Collins. Then, in a burst of drunken unconcern, "And if you want to turn your back on me too, why, you and Tom may do so!" "Not at all, not at all!" Fanwell hastened to assure him. "I'm glad to know you. Won't you join us in a drink?" The invitation seemed to mollify Collins.
"Then he'll recover in a few minutes." They waited while Collins surrendered completely to the conquering stupor, which seemed more like a heavy sleep brought on by physical exhaustion than the overpowering effect of whisky fumes. His heavy eyelids closed, his jaw hung, he breathed through his mouth. After a time Fanwell shook the unconscious Collins until all the drowsiness left him.
"It's a sort of dirty, underhand thing to do, Fanwell," he was protesting to his companion. "Not a bit clubby." Fanwell remained entirely unabashed beneath this surly reproof. "Look here, Cooper!" He moved his chair a trifle closer. "You don't have to do it I can't make you. But you know the consequences. You know as well as I that the chief isn't doing favors for nothing.
Collins stopped short, amazement written across his features. He stood mute, lips pendent, his eyes bulging forward as if gazing at an apparition. Cooper and Fanwell, following his gaze, beheld the door standing ajar and revealing a man's form with one hand on the knob, the other braced against the jamb.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking