"Mr. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack. T' other gen'l'man said the letter 'ud explain all. She was curious to know why he had boarded a dingy train instead of hailing a cab or his own private chauffeur like the others in expensive suits were doing. The Ragged Edge. He had been formally adopted by the Becks at the age of twelve. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters.
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