He came to the door and as he opened it a crack, she pushed herself inside urgently. She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. ” John greeted him. I tried painting and couldn’t get on. Sheppard repressed the scream that rose to her lips, and both mother and son gazed with apprehension at the heavy figure of the thief-taker, which, viewed in the twilight, seemed dilated to twice its natural size, and appeared almost to block up the window. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip.
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