"Well, I guess my trick's over," she exclaimed as cheerfully as possible.
Mike scrambled to his feet, catching up his automatic as he did so. Instead of answering the girl who leaned against the door frame, he stared at Dorothy in a sort of amazed wonder. She met his gaze, a malicious little smile at the corners of her mouth. Aside from a flush on her cheeks, she showed not the slightest sign of the ordeal she had just passed through, nor the exhaustion it must have produced. His eyes fell rather stupidly to her feet. If Mike had not so recently staggered under Dorothy's material weight, he would not have believed her to possess any at all. He drew a deep breath.
"Who taught you jiu jitsu?"
"A woman professional in New York. She had a class--the others went in for it in a lady like way. But I took it up seriously because I thought I might need it some day."
"Have you--ever?" He had dropped his east side argot, she noticed.
"Once or twice--but never like this," she smiled.
"I should hope not." Mike was rather pale. He frowned. "Where do you get your appalling strength?"
"Heredity--and training. I come by it honestly. It's not so extraordinary as some people seem to think." Her smile widened. "My father is the strongest man I've ever known. Although you'd never guess it by looking at him. He can do all sorts of stunts. He's trained me--running, boxing, fencing, swimming--"
"I'll say he has! I wouldn't have believed it possible--and you only a kid!"
Dorothy nodded and looked at him with a curious light in her gray eyes.