“Who?” asked Skip.
“That high-toned friend of yours,” replied the woman. “You know, the kid-gloved bloke. I forget what you call him.”
“I know who you mean.”
“Come in, Crackers; come in, I say.”
Tambourine Jack and his remarkable brute walked into the place.
Skip Brodie started as one who believes he sees a ghost.
A thought struck him, and with him to think was to act.
Rushing upon the little fellow, he caught him by the hair.
“Let go!”
“Damn the dog!” yelled Brodie.