Then the hotel manager struck his palms together sharply, and two Chinese "boys" came pattering in from the dining room. The poor widow was thrown into an agony of distress on learning that a robbery had been committed, in which her son (for she could not doubt that Jack was one of the boys,) was implicated; nor was her anxiety alleviated by Mrs. gutenberg. She stood up and he sat down at the microscope, and for a time he was busy scrutinizing one section after another. Then blackness. “What ought you to do?” He began to produce his knowledge of the world for her benefit, jerkily and allusively, and with a strong, rank flavor of “savoir faire. Unless he has killed someone.
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