There was a quiver in her voice and her nostrils were dilated like those of a thoroughbred eager to run the race. She had risen from her seat and stood facing him, her fists clenched, her face set and determined. Stott had never seen her in this mood and he gazed at her half admiringly, half curiously.
“What will you do?” he asked with a slightly ironical inflection in his voice.
“I am going to fight John Burkett Ryder!” she cried.
Stott looked at her open-mouthed.
“You?” he said.
“Yes, I,” said Shirley. “I'm going to him and I intend to get those letters if he has them.”
Stott shook his head.
“How do you classify him?”
“As the greatest criminal the world has ever produced.”—Act III.