She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. ” The detective thrust his notebook into his pocket. He had been reading Belfort Bax, and declared himself a convert. "Hear me, Sir Rowland!" he cried. He would teach her all he knew of life so that if the Hand should ever reach his shoulder, she would be able to defend herself. He was carelessly dressed, and there were marks of unrest upon his features. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. Kneebone," she added, drawing up her magnificent figure to its full height, and making the heavy cudgel whistle through the air, "look to yourself.
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