Word: bloodhound
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...criticism, Britain's defense industry contracts seemed to be the main target of the debate. Critics in the press and Parliament alike were quick to remember that the same thing happened only three years ago, when Ferranti, Ltd., repaid $12 million after acknowledging an 82% profit manufacturing Bloodhound missiles. Since then, there has been no significant change in the basis for contracting. The government still has no legal redress for excess profits...
There would be no massive influx of secret agents, as some Senators fear. By most estimates, no more than ten to fifteen officials would be added to the Russian diplomatic corps here. Even J. Edgar Hoover, director of the F.B.I. and the nation's most enthusiastic bloodhound, admits that the government could handle any threat the new arrivals might pose...
...course of a Playboy magazine panel discussion on sex. Food has a soul, he writes; fresh food has more soul than canned food. Terminal cancer cases can be arrested by reading William Burroughs: "Bet money on that." The now-notorious Mailer sense of smell, which got such a bloodhound workout in his last novel, An American Dream, now concentrates on the bowel: man's nature, he says, can be divined in "the color, the shape, the odor and the movement" of his stool...
...merely because he is the Senate's most practiced and professional orator but largely because he is the shrewd, patient negotiator whose efforts, perhaps more than anyone else's, had made a favorable cloture vote likely. With great deliberation Dirksen took off his tortoise-shell spectacles, revealing his sad, bloodhound eyes underlined by deep, dark pouches. In his massive left hand, its little finger flourishing a green jade ring, he held a twelve-page speech he had typed the night before on Senate stationery...
Murder at the Gallop. A body lies on the floor. A little to one side, on all fours, crouches a fat old bloodhound. Its ears are pendulous, its muzzle is prominent, its bloodshot eyes stare dolefully out of enormous pouches. "Dead!" the bloodhound woofs with astonishment, and then, with a dramatic flourish of its dewlaps, the comical creature rears up on its skinny hind legs and goes waddling off on the scent of the killer...