" "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily. "And equally easy to prove it," replied Jack, giving him the paper he had abstracted from Wild. With a gesture which was without any kind of emotional expression, the manager indicated the silent crumpled figure on the floor and gave the room number. "Not dangerously, I hope," returned Thames; "but fly—save yourself. “What do you mean?” Lucy asked. I say, I'll take the yarn over and read it to McClintock. Why, he can scarcely be twenty. Oh, I grew fond of you as the years went by.
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