Buff rejected this method as tame and unspectacular.
"What would you do, Lizbeth?"
"It depends," said Elizabeth, "on how much money I had. If it was a lot, I would send a detective to recover it. But sending a detective would cost a lot."
Buff thought deeply for a few seconds.
"I know what I would do," he said. "I would send a bloodhound—steerage."
CHAPTER XIX
"How wilt thou do in the swelling of Jordan?"
"As dying, and behold we live."
You know, of course, Gentle Reader, that there can be no end to this little chronicle?
You know that when a story begins in 1913, 1914 will follow, and that in that year certainty came to an end, plans ceased to come to fruition—that, in fact, the lives of all of us cracked across.