" "You have extradition papers?" "What sort of a detective do you think I am?" countered O'Higgins. He found himself thinking up all the psychology which he had ever read. As the day wore on, the crowds diminished,—many who would not submit to the turnkey's demands were sent away ungratified,—and at five o'clock, only two strangers, Mr. Senior year started with a whimper. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. . " "Perhaps he is from Lord Derwentwater, or Mr.
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