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 no distinctions nor castes…. And Lydia, perching in the glamorous doorway of womanhood, waited eagerly for what might befall. Alone she was, a member of Craig Browning’s household, his ward under the last will and testament of Jethro, her grandfather…. Least changed of all with whom this narrative has to deal were Bishwhang and Jake Schwartz….

Craig Browning was seated before his desk reading with concentration which befits a leading member of the bar, a lengthy legal document. Suddenly his ears were assailed by a clamor as of some creature, possessed of many times the usual allotment of arms and legs hurling itself up his stairs with slippings and stumblings and sprawlings. The door burst open and a young man with frightened eyes, with uncut, bristling hair, with inky face that worked with extraordinary emotion, plunged in, shouting:

“Mr. Browning!… Mr. Browning!… He’s took! He’s took!”

“Who’s took, Bishwhang? And what’s he took with?”

“Dave’s took…. He’s clean out of his head, and Jake’s a-holdin’ him…. He’s a-goin’ to die!”

Already, hatless, Craig was on his way to the