’ Then she whisked from the room, hearing Lucilla utter a delighted squeal as she closed the door behind her. CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. Arrived at the secret door, she grasped the lever that opened it and placed the lantern on the floor. But you, Ferringhall, our pattern, an erstwhile Sheriff of London, a county magistrate, a prospective politician, a sober and an upright man, one who, had he aspired to it, might even have filled the glorious position of Lord Mayor— James, a whisky and Apollinaris at once.
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