CHAPTER XII
a black scoundrel
When Jane Clayton regained consciousness she saw Anderssen standing over her holding the baby in his arms. As her eyes rested upon them an expression of misery and horror overspread her countenance.
"What is the matter?" he asked. "You ban sick?"
"Where is my baby?" she cried, ignoring his questions.
Anderssen held out the chubby infant, but she shook her head.
"It is not mine," she said. "You knew that it was not mine. You are a devil like the Russian."
Anderssen's blue eyes stretched in surprise.
"Not yours!" he exclaimed. "You tole me the kid aboard the Kincaid ban your kid."
"Not this one," replied Jane dully. "The other. Where is the other? There must have been two. I did not know about this one."
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