"What I started to tell you is that there's blood on Lad's jaws; as well as on the baby's blanket.

If two men say they've been bitten by dogs--" "I get you!" yelled the other.

"Good-by! I got no time to waste, when a clew like that is shaken in front of me.

See you later!" Long before the Chief arrived at the Place with triumphant tidings of his success in "sweating" the truth from the mangled and nerve-racked Schwartzes, the two other actors in the evening's drama were miles away among the sunflecked shadows of Dreamland.
The baby, industriously and unsanitarily sucking one pudgy thumb, was cuddled down to sleep in the Mistress's lap.

And, in the depths of his cave under the living-room piano, Lad was stretched at perfect ease; his tiny white forepaws straight in front of him.
But his deep breathing was interrupted, now and then, by a muttered sigh.