“Do you need me to remind you that your patient is bleeding to death?” He dropped on his knees by the man’s side and made a hurried examination. His hat was placed upon one pole, his wig on another. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. It was horrible. The McCloskeys had picked Lucy from a bunch of children languishing at the Illinois Christian Home for Children. " "In what way, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, in astonishment. As usual the substantive sister—Prudence—did all the talking for the pair; Angelina, the shadow, offered only her submitting nods. "The poor young man!" sighed Angelina. Then the hotel manager struck his palms together sharply, and two Chinese "boys" came pattering in from the dining room.
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