“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.”
“There vasn’t no other kid. Ay tank this ban yours. Ay am very sorry.”
Anderssen fidgeted about, standing first on one foot and then upon the other. It was perfectly evident to Jane that he was honest in his protestations of ignorance of the true identity of the child.
Presently the baby commenced to crow, and bounce up and down in the Swede’s arms, at the same time leaning forward with little hands out-reaching toward the young woman.