“He has said something of the sort. He was into the passage in time to see her slip into another chamber at the end. Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. Saws, hammers, planes, axes, augers, adzes, chisels, gimblets, and an endless variety of tools were ranged, like a stand of martial weapons at an armoury, in racks against the walls.
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