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Updated: May 22, 2025
Again Uniacke hesitated. He was on the verge of telling a lie, but conscience intervened. "Yes," he said. "Didn't he speak of little Jack?" said Sir Graham slowly, and with a sudden nervous spasm of the face. "Yes, Sir Graham." "That's curious." "Why?" "The same name my wonder-child's name." "And the name of a thousand children." "Of course, of course.
By degrees he began to lose the expectation of seeing any apparition. Presently he even sneered silently at himself for his folly in having ever entertained it. Nevertheless he was strongly affected by the nearness of the wonder-child's grave, from which seemed to emanate an influence definite and searching, and so he felt increasingly hostile, either to himself or to the artist.
"I must try to get some sleep even in the storm." He held out his thin hand. Uniacke took it. "Good-night," he said. "Good-night. I am sorry I have troubled you with my foolish history." "It interested me deeply. By the way what did you say your wonder-child's name was, his full name?" "Jack Jack Pringle. What is it?" "Nothing. That gust of wind startled me. Good-night."
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