" "You have extradition papers?" "What sort of a detective do you think I am?" countered O'Higgins. She felt surges of longing escape every corner of her flesh. “Is it your maid?” he asked. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. Gosse cursed him finely, of course, but there was nothing he could do. And yet she knew it was not fair to call her a foolish girl. "I've just recollected that my husband left a key with me, which he charged me to give you when I could find an opportunity.
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