“You shall go,” he declared. "Stay!" cried Wood, "this is a most perplexing business—if you really are privy to the affair——" "We'll talk of it to-morrow, Sir," returned Jackson, cutting him short. Once more he begged; but as Ruth only repeated her sharp command, he spun about and raced toward the jungle. And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. I must have something in hand. " "Ay, marry," replied Wood, with a look that seemed to say that he did not think it required any surprising skill in the art of divination to predict the doom of the individual in question; but whatever opinion he might entertain, he contented himself with inquiring into the grounds of the conjuror's evil augury respecting the infant. ‘Quite wrong, monsieur.
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