THE BRASS BOWL
hand whose sheer perfection was but enhanced by the ripe curves of a rounded forearm. … He inhaled deeply, with satisfaction.
Undetected by him, the girl swiftly passed a furtive handkerchief across her lips. When he looked again she was smiling and the golden case had disappeared.
She shook her head at him in mock reproval. "Bold man!" she called him; but the crudity of it was lost upon him, as she had believed it would be. The moment had come for vigorous measures, she felt, guile having paved the way.
"Why do you call me that?"
"To appear so openly, running the gauntlet of the detectives. …"
"Eh?"—startled.
"Of course you saw," she insisted.
"Saw? No. Saw what?"
"Why. … Perhaps I am mistaken, but I thought you knew and trusted to your likeness to Mr. Maitland. …"
Anisty frowned, collecting himself, bewildered.
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