“Showtime!” Martin cried. He was a tall man and fair, with bluish eyes that were rather protuberant, and long white hands of which he made a display. I did not know how he would act if I obstructed him. The terrific mental tension of the past few months —that had held his bodily nourishment in a kind of strangulation—became as a dream; and now his vitals responded rapidly to food and air. Somebody may be on the watch—perhaps, that old ginger-hackled Jew.
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