But if I escape, my gratitude—" "Pshaw!" interrupted Jonathan, scornfully. "These writer chaps are queer birds. She had slept badly at first in a long chair next to the fire waiting for him to return, but caught on after that. She’s obsessed with him, you know, totally obsessed. At ninethirty he climbed into the chair and signified to Ah Cum that he was ready. Losing his presence of mind, Jack quitted his hold, and dropped upon the frame. His gaze remained steady on the old dame’s face, as he thought about it. Somebody tricked you back yonder—baited you for spite. Sheppard, horror-stricken.
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