George Allan England

“ On the way down town on an elevated train, Wyatt smoked his pipe and reviewed matters with vast satisfaction.
“Veazie has the old man completely buffaloed. Andrew's instructions to overhaul the car and have it ready by the early part of next week mean that Veazie and Lockwood are leaving then for Charleston. They'll never come back without the long lost daughter with the strawberry mark on her left shoulder—that's a cinch; and then the fun begins. How a man of Lockwood's supposed intelligence can fall for a crook like that, and a skull séance, beats me. ”

“ Ill bet you a feed at Thompson's Spa that Veazie's got the daughter planted there already.”
“That's right—he might have. Great stuff! Looks to me as if I'd better dig out and hunt the chauffeur, pretty P. D. Q.”
“Intelligent young man!” gibed Lomax. “You've got a right hunch, for once in your pure life. Lockwood and the prof are going to chercher la femme. It's up to you to chercher le chauffeur, and do it now! Here's your hat. What's your hurry?”
Inside of an hour Wyatt had located the garage where Lockwood kept his limousine. ”

“ Severely she confronted him in the high-ceilinged hallway with the ancient clock ticking halfway up the stairs. “If you've come to ask me, or anybody, any questions about anything, you'd better save your breath to cool your porridge!” ”