Hunt's wild hair had been smartly barbered, he had on a swagger dust-coat, and beneath it flannels of the smartest cut.

Further, he bore himself as if smart clothes and smart cars had always been items of his equipment.
"Well, young fellow, spill it," he commanded.

"What do I look like ?" "Like Solomon in all his glory.

No, more like the he-dressmaker of the Queen of Sheba." "I'm going to run you up every telephone post we come to for that insult! Hop in, son, and we'll take a little voyage around the earth in eighty seconds." Larry got in.

Once out of the drive the car leaped away as though intent upon keeping to Hunt's time-table.