"Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES FROM THE PHOTOPLAY PRODUCED BY DISTINCTIVE PICTURES CORPORATION NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS THE RAGGED EDGE CHAPTER I The Master is inordinately fond of young fools. ‘Do not be imbecile. “Does he know that I am involved with someone?” “Of course he knows. . Her eyes were soft and blue, arched over by dark brows, and fringed by long silken lashes. Beware of him, my son! Beware of him! You know not what villany he is capable of. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. The worst was over now.
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