” Anna had reached the house where she lodged, but she hesitated on the doorstep. Behind her stood Caliban, chuckling to himself, and grinning from ear to ear. "I disbelieve the whole story you have told me. 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. “Of course he may merely have been telling her who we were, but I think it improbable. If only we are not divided.
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