Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley door pickup 10am - 7pm 3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
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  • Open Daily: 10am - 10pm
    Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm

    3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
    612-822-4611

Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm
3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611
The Hollow of Her Hand

The Hollow of Her Hand

McCutcheon, George Barr

Paperback

General Fiction

Currently unavailable to order

ISBN10: 1153706326
ISBN13: 9781153706322
Publisher: General Books
Pages: 214
Weight: 0.70
Height: 0.48 Width: 9.01 Depth: 5.98
Language: English
Excerpt: ... that wretched business of a year ago. Hetty stopped in her tracks. She went very white. What news, Mr. Wrandall? They say they have stumbled upon a clew, -an absolutely indisputable clew. Smith had me on the wire this morning. He is the chief operative, you understand, Miss Castleton. He informs me that his original theory is quite fully substantiated by this recent discovery. If you remember, he gave it as his opinion a year ago that the woman was not-er-I may say, of the class catalogued as fast. He is coming out to-morrow to see me. Things went suddenly black before her eyes, but in an instant she regained control of herself. They have had many clews, Mr. Wrandall, she complained, shaking her head. I know, he replied; and this one may be as futile as the rest. Smith appears to be absolutely certain this time, however. I understood that Mrs. Wrandall-I mean Mrs. Challis Wrandall-refused to offer a reward, said Booth. These big detective agencies are not keen about- There is a ten thousand dollar reward still standing, Brandon, said Mr. Wrandall. Again the girl started. That isn't generally known, sir, observed the painter. Leslie told me there was no reward. It was privately arranged, explained Leslie's father. They came in sight of the house at that moment, and the subject was dropped, for Sara was approaching them in earnest conversation with Mr. Carroll, her lawyer. They met at the edge of the lower basin, where the waters trickled down from an imposing Italian fountain on the level above, forming a deep, clear pool to which the lofty sky lent unfathomable depths. To the left of the basin there was a small tea-house, snug in the shadow of the cypresses that lined the crest of the hill. A series of rough stone steps wound down to the water's edge and the boathouse. Mr. Carroll is the bearer of startling news, Mr. Wrandall, said Sara, after the greetings. There was a trace of the sardonic in her voice....

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