" "Perhaps so," rejoined the stranger; "but I have others in reserve, not so generally known. Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. ’ Then memory hit and he stared at his friend. ’ She eyed him, all her uncertainty surfacing. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. The chair was torture. The Bitchster strikes again. “Agreed,” he said with queer exaltation, and his grip tightened on her hand. "I came to see Jack Sheppard, and I won't go till you point him out to me. Indeed I must.
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