He found a coach at the door, with the blinds carefully drawn up, and ascertained from a tall, ill-looking, though tawdrily-dressed fellow, who held his horse by the bridle, and whom he addressed as Quilt Arnold, that the two boys were safe inside, in the custody of Abraham Mendez, the dwarfish Jew. In this way (he informed Spurlock) he kept posted on what was going on in the strictly commercial world. But eventually Spurlock laughed. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. The risk I run is nothing to yours. The manager tells me that you are an American. She looked steadfastly out. Well, this is OUR thing. Even if she has to work two jobs to do it.
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