She had not seen Ramage for ten or eleven days, and she was quite ready for a gossip with him. They were his friends, and they recognized his unusual earnestness. When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. One might suppose him turning up; he knew a lot of clever people, and some of them might belong to the class. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. I've destroyed my only chance. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. ” “I am staying,” she answered coolly, “at a small boarding-house near Russell Square.
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