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"Pooh!" she scolded herself. "You've cut your finger. Serve you right for not minding your own business. Go to it now, and no nonsense, if you please!" Goading herself to courage she marched to the door of 658 and knocked. No answer came, and the girl's heart sank. It seemed too bad to be true that Peterson should have escaped during the few minutes spent in putting Angel into a taxi.
If you want to know why, you'd better ask them." Grady blew out the match and returned the cigar to his pocket, with an air of satisfaction that Peterson could not make out. "That's all right, Mr. Peterson. I didn't come here to make trouble.
He was helping her, and so, indirectly, helping me, though I'd seen him only when he brought her here that Sunday night, after she'd been to his hotel. Oh, Roger, you don't know what that child has done for me! Not only did she get back the envelope, and now the pearls which Peterson stole but she has gone through an ordeal terrible enough to kill most women, or drive them mad that delicate girl!
"Suppose he should die, what will become of that great thing he has in his head?" "Oh, I guess he is all right," Mrs. Peterson soothed. "Perhaps he is thinking out something else, and will surprise us with some new idea." "Oh, do you think so?" and the girl's eyes grew big with wonder. "Won't it be great if he does!"
"Couldn't leave us, eh?" he questioned, as he gazed with admiration upon the bright, animated face before him. "No, I had to come back," Lois laughingly replied. "Your company is so attractive that I could not resist the temptation of bringing another to enjoy it. This is Mr. Jasper Randall, Captain Peterson. He has come to see you on special business."
Ten years in research. "All shot to hell," he screamed, "by a stinking, hayburning cow." Peterson patted him gently on the shoulder. "It's all right, Fred. Don't take it so hard. It could be worse." "How?" he asked hollowly. "Have this stuff milked from a kangaroo?"
At that distance and in that confused tangle of light and shadow the great timbers of the frame looked spidery. The effect was that of a luminous crown upon a gigantic, sphinx-like head. "I guess you are right," he said slowly. "But I never thought of it that way before. And I've done more or less night work, too." A moment later Peterson came up.
"When will we begin on it?" Peterson asked. "To-day. Have the whistle blow at four. It'll make some of the men work overtime to-day, but we'll pay them for it." Miss Vogel was putting on her jacket. Before joining Max, who was waiting at the door, she asked: "Do you want me to make any change in my work, Mr. Bannon?" "No, you'd better go ahead just as you are.
Winter and Peterson standing nearest to Williams, and seeing him so furious, flew at him immediately, and each of them fired a pistol at him.
That a perfect stranger, and a perfectly drunken stranger at that, should employ a nickname which was for the use of a privileged few, distressed him. "And," said the swaying man by the door, peering through the half-darkness: "Is it not Detective-Sergeant Peterson and Constable Fairbank? Welcome to this home of virtue." The detective-sergeant smiled but said nothing.
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