As they watched, they saw his hands close convulsively on the sheet he was holding, while his lips muttered some words that made the detective look hard at his companion.
"Did you hear ?" he cautiously inquired, as Mr.Ransom stood hesitating, not knowing whether to address the man or not.
"No; what did he say?
Do you suppose he is reading that paragraph ?" "I haven't a doubt of it; and his words were, 'Here's a damned lie!'-- very much like your own, sir." Mr.Ransom drew the detective a few steps down the corridor.
"He said that ?" "Yes, I heard him distinctly." "Then my theory is all wrong.

This man didn't provide her with this imaginary twin sister." "Evidently not." "And is as surprised as we are." "And about as much put out.

Look at him! Nothing yellow there! We shall have to go easy with him." Mr.Ransom looked and felt a recoil of more than ordinary dislike for the man.

The latter had put the paper in his pocket and was coming their way.
His face, once possibly handsome, for his eyes and forehead were conspicuously fine, showed a distortion quite apart from that given by his physical disfigurement.

He was not simply angry but in a mental and moral rage, and it made him more than hideous; it made him appalling.