Hurt beyond what he could imagine by the selfishness and pride of her forbears, whose fateful disputes had robbed her of the life she should have led, the plucky little devil had taken matters into her own hands. "If that sickly brat lives to be a man," continued Jonathan, rising, "I'll hang him upon the same tree as his father. I know you’re young but I think I, no, I know that I love you. “Not only that,” he answered. I'll send for Wu Fang. Only a book detective could dope this out. From this night I shall pursue a different course; from this night his ruin may be dated. Ain't you, Jacky darling?" "Not quite, Poll," returned Mr. "You were a little out of your head. “Damn! Things are getting plainer. CHAPTER IX.
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