I shall be black and blue." "The grip on Robert Turold's arm is quite a different thing," pursued Barrant earnestly.

"Do not be afraid, I am not going to demonstrate again.
It was more in the nature of a pounce--a sort of tiger-spring hold, made by somebody in a state of great mental excitement, with tightened muscles which caused a tense clutch with the finger-tips, the nails digging into the skin, the fingers bent and wide apart.

My opinion is that it is a man's grip." "Thalassa ?" "That I cannot say.

He's a cunning and wary devil, and I could get nothing Out of him last night.

He says he was in the coal cellar when his master met his death.