Roscoe Sherriff uttered a cry of rapture.
'You've said it!' he exclaimed. 'I knew we should get action
sooner or later. It's the puma over again. Now we are all right.
Now I have something to work on. "Monkey Menaces Countryside."
"Long Island Summer Colony in Panic." "Mad Monkey Bites One--"'
A convulsive shudder galvanized Mr Pickering's portly frame.
'"Mad Monkey Terrorizes Long Island. One Dead!"' murmured Roscoe
Sherriff, wistfully. 'Do you feel a sort of shooting, Pickering--a
kind of burning sensation under the skin? Lady Wetherby, I guess
I'll be getting some of the papers on the phone. We've got a big
story.'
He hurried to the telephone, but it was some little time before he
could use it. Dudley Pickering was in possession, talking
earnestly to the local doctor.
14
It was Nutty Boyd's habit to retire immediately after dinner to
his bedroom. What he did there Elizabeth did not know. Sometimes
she pictured him reading, sometimes thinking. Neither supposition
was correct. Nutty never read. Newspapers bored him and books made
his head ache. And as for thinking, he had the wrong shape of
forehead. The nearest he ever got to meditation was a sort of
trance-like state, a kind of suspended animation in which his mind
drifted sluggishly like a log in a backwater.
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