] THE RAGGED EDGE BY HAROLD MACGRATH AUTHOR OF DRUMS OF JEOPARDY, ETC. “Martin Chen!” Michelle shouted his name in an outburst, like an invocation. Covering his face with a crape mask, and taking the candle from his associate, Jack entered the room; and, pistol in hand, stepped up to the bed, and approached the light to the eyes of the sleepers. “I noticed him call her attention to us as we passed down the room,” he answered. Lucy led Michelle to the skeleton of the newly emerging two-story. She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. I fancy that Sir John does not approve of me. Days later, Sebastian found her by the lake, sobbing. That’s the difficulty. Curiously enough nothing will persuade him that she is not ‘Alcide.
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