“Hogan, as you call him, looks like a very strong man,” said Andy.
“And I don’t, eh?”
“Well,” said Andy, not willing to give offense, “he is a good deal larger than you.”
“That is true. But a man’s strength isn’t always in proportion to his size. Give me your hand, please.”
Andy did so, though he did not quite understand the detective’s object in making the request.
Perkins’ hands were incased in tight-fitting kid gloves, and were small for a man. What was Andy’s surprise, then, to find his fingers in an ironlike grip that positively pained him. Perkins smiled as he felt Andy wince under the pressure.
“You’ve got the strongest hand of any lady I ever met,” said Andy, with a smile.
“Suppose I get a grip on Mike Hogan?” suggested Perkins.
“I think he would find it hard to get away.”
“He is the man I want. The other is of little consequence, compared with Hogan. If I can take but one, I shall hold on to the older villain.”