eBooks Base 2000

Timmons came down the stairs, and bustled in back of the desk, eager to
ask questions.
"Lady a friend o' yours, Jim?" he asked. "If I'd a knowed she wus
comin' I'd a saved a better room."
"I have never seen her until to-night, Pete. She got off the train,
and Carson asked me to escort her up-town--it was dark, you know. How
did she like the palatial apartment?"
"Well, she didn't say nothin'; just sorter looked around. I reckon
she's a good sport, all right. What do ye suppose she's come yere for?"
"Not the slightest idea; I take it that's her business."
"Sure; but a feller can't help wonderin', can he? Donovan," he mused,
peering at the name; "that's Irish, I take it--hey?"
"Suspiciously so; you are some detective, Pete. I'll give you another
clue--her eyes are Irish grey."
He sauntered across to the stove, and stood looking idly at the
card-players, blue wreaths of tobacco smoke circling up from the bowl
of his pipe. Some one opened the street door, letting in a babel of
noise, and walked heavily across the office floor.


Pages:
49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73