But why should Spantz wish him evil?
Again intuition, encouraged by memory, supplied him with a possible, even plausible explanation.
The Anarchists! The Reds! Olga was an avowed Anarchist; she was almost a prisoner in the house of her uncle.

Truxton's guard sat up suddenly and felt for his weapon when the captive let out a bitter oath of understanding and rage.
"By gad, they think I am a detective!" he added, light coming to him with a rush.
"What's that ?" snapped the other.

Truxton could almost feel the other's body grow tense despite the space between them.

"Are you a detective?
Are you?
By God, if you are, I'll finish you up right here.

You--" "No! They're on the wrong scent.