Kildare grunted.
"Now," continued Jones, with the wisdom of an old owl, "mark the curl of his lip, and the bold, defiant stare of the eye. Mark the covert smile on that face, as if he were really laughing at us now. All those things are significant—mighty significant. You do not dream of the treachery hidden beneath that boyish exterior; but I, sir, can see by his eye that he had rather cut a throat than eat a square meal. The peculiar shape of his lips denote blood-thirstiness, and his nose, which seems rather finely formed to the casual observer, is the nose of a person utterly without conscience. His forehead indicates a certain order of intelligence, but this simply makes him all the more dangerous. He has brain power and force, and that explains why he has succeeded in becoming a leader of desperadoes. That chin is a hard, cruel feature, while the shape of his ears indicates an utter disregard for anything sweet and harmonious of sound, like music. That is an ear which finds more music in the shrieks of murdered victims than in anything else."
Frank literally staggered.
"Great Scott!" he gasped. "I never before dreamed that I was such a villainous-looking creature!"
Kildare began fitting a key to the lock of the door.
"Are you sure he is disarmed?" asked the private detective.
"Yep."
"Well, you are at liberty to do as you like, but I should not remove those irons. It would be far better to keep them on him."
"Why?"
"Well, you see—that is—hum!—ha!—such a creature cannot be held too fast. There is no telling what he is liable to do."