ously; he was so subtle about it that if I had not been paying particular attention to him, I'd never have guessed anybody here was worrying him. But some one was—one of those bulldog-jaw, assertive sort of chaps that make you think right away of the reform candidate, and who gives you, at the same glance, the reason that reform administrations fail. Not a tactful face at all but highly determined. He was about thirty-five and was young for his type, I thought, until I considered that his type has to be younger sometime. Anyway, there he was, solid and belligerent, and with a copy of the Iron Age before his face.
I had to look at him eight or ten times before I became absolutely sure that he wasn't reading it but, in turn, was watching George when George was looking the other way.
So a man hunt—other than my own (if you called my operations a hunt)—was on aboard this train; and the stalking was in process before me.
It was a woman hunt, too; for of course Doris and Felice, forward, must be a part of the quarry; and as I reckoned their chances, I thought that never a bulldog-jawed hound had run a quarry into a more hopeless hollow log
