Now, to the bottom of his
soul, he worshiped that dozen! Some of them were homely, some of them
were plain, two or three of them were pretty, but to Keith their
present physical qualifications made no difference. They were white
women, and they were glorious, every one of them! The plainest of them
was lovely. He wanted to throw up his hat and shout in sheer joy. Four
years--and now he was back in angel land! For a space he forgot
McDowell.
His head was in a whirl when he came to barracks. Life was good, after
all. It was worth fighting for, and he was bound fight. He went
straight to McDowell's office. A moment after his knock on the door the
Inspector's secretary appeared.
"The Inspector is busy, sir," he said in response to Keith's inquiry.
"I'll tell him--"
"That I am here on a very important matter," advised Keith. "He will
admit me when you tell him that I bring information regarding a certain
John Keith."
The secretary disappeared through an inner door. It seemed not more
than ten seconds before he was back. "The Inspector will see you, sir."
Keith drew a deep breath to quiet the violent beating of his heart. In
spite of all his courage he felt upon him the clutch of a cold and
foreboding hand, a hand that seemed struggling to drag him back.
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