Explore "Black Jack" by Max Brand on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The door had hardly closed on him when Terence wanted to run after him and call him back. There was a thrill still running in his blood since the time the yegg had leaned so close and said: "That wasn't Black Jack's way!"
He wanted to know more about Black Jack, and he wanted to hear the story from the lips of this man. A strange warmth had come over him. It had seemed for a moment that there was a third impalpable presence in the room -- his father listening. And the thrill of it remained, a ghostly and yet a real thing.