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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"The Definite Object A Romance of New York"

"
"Spoke like a true sport, Guv!"
"Why, you see, you have surely done me a very great service."
"Meanin' because I found ye th' murderer."
"Murderer?" exclaimed Ravenslee, staring.
"Why, yes--there 'e is!" and the old man pointed a long finger at the
shrinking Spike.
"Old Un," said Ravenslee, shaking his head, "don't joke with me--"
"I--I ain't jokin', Guv," cried the Old Un, rising. "Why--oh,
Lorgorramighty, you don't mean t' say as this ain't 'im? Why, 'e 's
confessed, Guv; I 'eard 'im!"
Ravenslee smiled gently and shook his head again.
"But he has been sick, Old Un; he was hurt, you know, when he saved my
life."
"But, Lord, Guv, if 'e 's confessed--"
"He has been sick, Old Un, and when we are sick the wisest of us are apt
to say silly things--even I did, so they tell me."
"What?" quavered the old man, "ain't I--ain't I found no murderer for
ye, arter all, Guv?"
"You've done something much, very much better, Old Un--you've found me
my brother!"
"Brother!" echoed Spike, "brother? Oh, Geoff--" he sighed deeply, and
as Ravenslee crossed toward him he smiled wanly and sank swooning into
the supporting arms of the Spider, who at a word from Hermione bore the
boy up-stairs; but scarcely was he laid upon his bed than he opened his
heavy eyes.


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