Beggars -- Fiction; Love stories; Revenge -- Fiction; Women sculptors -- Fiction
"Yes."
"All right, sir." The man shrugged his big shoulders, and, his face
sullen and annoyed, knelt at the door of Jenny Ward's room, unlocked it,
flung it open, and entered quickly.
Over his head the doctors saw an expression of fear, almost unearthly,
come over the woman's face. And she filled her room and the corridor
without with a hoarse and horrible screaming.
Instantly the big nurse rose to his feet, and came out of the room. His
face was passionately angry. And he said:
"It's a shame to frighten her like that."
The superintendent's eyes fell before the glare in those of the
employee, and he murmured something about "necessary experiment--had
to be done."
XXXVI
"There's no room for doubt in my mind," said Dr. Ferris. "The
coincidence of the birthmarks, most unusual in shape and texture, the
poor woman's behavior at sight of a man who at first glance appeared to
be without legs--"
"Yes," said Barbara, "but I go more on a certain expression that Bubbles
sometimes has and that makes him look like his father. You see, I've
done both their heads, and studied them closer than anybody else."
"Do you suppose the boy knows?"
She shook her head. "I think not. He's too--too decent. If he thought
that Blizzard was his father, he wouldn't say the things that I have
heard him say about him. He's the most loyal child."
"Do you suppose Blizzard knows?"
"Why, of course. A man could hardly have a son without knowing
him--especially a man who lives with his ears to the ground and his mind
in touch with everything in the city."
Dr. Ferris smiled a little. "Well," he said, "shall we tell Bubbles?"
"Why should we? I shouldn't like to be told out of a clear sky that I
had such and such a father. It doesn't seem in the least necessary."
But before the day was out Barbara thought best to tell Bubbles. He
came to her, with a slightly important air, which he did his best to
conceal, and said that he wished to go to the city for a few days,
on business.
"Sure the business isn't free untrammelled smoking?"
Bubbles was offended. "If I hadn't given you my word," he said, "you
might think that. I told you when we came that I might have to go back
any time on business. I got to go. Honest, Miss Barbara."
"Well, that settles it, Bubbles. But don't you think as long as I'm
trying to give you some of the things you've missed, that you might take
me a little more into your confidence?"
She maintained a discreet and serious countenance, although she wished
very much to laugh.
The boy studied her face gravely with grave eyes. "The ABC of my
business," he said presently, "is knowing who to trust. I know you won't
blab, Miss Barbara, 'r else I wouldn't tell you. There's a society in
New York City for putting down grafts and crimes. There's a rich man
back of it. And there's more kinds o' people working for it than you'd
guess in a year. There's even policemen workin' for it--"
"But it's their business to put down crime."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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