"Little fool!" he said. "Didn't you know I was coming with you?"
PART II
CHAPTER XII
FROM a distinctly precarious perch—one foot on the back of a chair, the other on an oak chest—Blake surveyed the unfurnished salon of the fifth-floor appartement. His coat was off, in one dusty hand he held a hammer, in the other a picture, while from between his lips protruded a brass-headed nail.
"If I drive the nail here, boy, will you be satisfied? Upon my word, it's the last place I'll try!" He spoke with what dignity and distinctness he could command, but the effect was lost upon Max, who, also dusty, also bearing upon his person the evidences of manual labor, was crouching over a wood fire, intent upon the contents of a brass coffee-pot.
"Max! Do you hear me?"