” The detective went down on his hands and knees. After quarter of an hour, she followed. He wiped the sweat from his chin and forehead. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. She was in one of her old walking-dresses, her hair was done in an unfamiliar manner, she wore a wedding-ring, and she looked as if she had been crying. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. Yet he was in a state of hopeless bewilderment.
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