Pulp Novel Quote of the Day (from The Red Right Hand by Joel Townsley Rogers)

The thing that I have to consider now without delay — the thing that I have to consider most intensely, and with all my mind, and now (now, sitting here at the desk in MacComerou's dusty, old-fashioned country living room, with St. Erme's young bride asleep on the horsehair sofa beside me, and the hot moonless night still black out-of-doors, though the dawn must break eventually — now, with the lanterns and flashlights moving out in the darkness, and the voices of the troopers and posse men near and far off, calling to each other with the thin, empty sound which men's voices have in the night; and some of them dropping back a while ago to get hot coffee from the pot left brewing on the kitchen range, with their grim tired faces swollen from mosquito bites and their legs covered to the knees with swamp muck and damp sawdust from the old sawmill pit, glancing in at me and the sleeping girl through the kitchen doorway only briefly while they gulped their drink in deep draughts to keep their brains awake, shaking their heads, in answer to my silent question, to indicate they had found no trace yet, and then out again on farther trails, with an empty slam of the screen door behind them — and now with the lanterns moving farther off through the woods and swamps, over the hills and down into the hollows; and now the distant baying of the hounds that have been brought in from somewhere; and armed men in pairs and squads patrolling every road for miles around, ready to shoot down at the rustle of a leaf that crazy killer, with his bloody saw-tooth knife and fanged grin, creeping so cunningly and red-handedly through the dark) — the thing that I have to consider here and without delay, in this deep darkness near the end of night, is this thing, and this thing only:

Where is that killer now?

— from The Red Right Hand by Joel Townsley Rogers

(In case you didn't notice, that's all one sentence, even with the paragraph break.)