I might have turned out to be Manuel Crust." "I--I--I was sure it was you," she stammered, and wished she had not said it.

It was a confession that she knew his figure so well that she could recognize it in the gloom of the night and at a distance that should have rendered him almost invisible.
"Even so, I am Manuel's brother under the skin," he said.

"Like Judy O'Grady and the Colonel's lady, you know.

However, all's well that ends well, so what's the use of magnifying the peril that stalks through the land." "You were brought up on the good, old-fashioned novels, I see.

That's the language of heroes,--and heroes live only in novels, where they are perfectly safe from harm, thanks to the benevolent author." "You're right.