as light of heart, indeed, as a city sparrow, as ready to snatch at a chance as a terrier is to snatch at a chicken-bone. She was, he decided, in every way a contradiction of what Maura Lambert stood for and seemed to embody.
Kestner waited until the taxi was under way. Then he swung himself up on the running-board, caught the handle of the door, opened it, and stepped inside. It was all done so quickly that the driver of the taxi himself was quite ignorant of that intrusion as the car gathered speed and took the turn at the next corner.
Sadie Wimpel, as Kestner sank down in the seat beside her, did not scream. She made no movement to escape. She did not change colour, since the rouge on her cheeks was too thick to admit of its being a barometer of her emotions. She merely sank back in her seat, staring at the intruder with half petulant and half interrogative eyes.
"Hully gee!" she finally and fretfully remarked. She took a deeper breath as they sped on. "You gumshoe guys sure give me the Willies!"
"That's all right, Francine!" was Kestner's unconcerned retort. He himself leaned forward and glanced out through the taxi window to make sure of their position.
The girl beside him was silent for a minute or two.
"Is this a pinch?" she demanded.
"Not unless you insist on turning it into one!" Kestner told her.
"Then what's the string?"
"Eight bank-note plates!"
