Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. " "Very true," chuckled Jackson; "very true. "That's an incorrigible rascal," he added, as Sheppard closed the door; "it's only to-day that I discovered—" "What?" asked Jackson, pricking up his ears. A slow horror was dawning in his fixed eyes. "I know the house well; by the same token that it's a flash crib. The two great hotels on their right were still ablaze with lights. "You mean, it doesn't matter?" "Poor Hoddy! When you were ill in Canton, out of your head, you babbled words.
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