” “Hampstead didn’t suit Lady Ferringhall,” Ennison remarked. “I do,” he answered. “Please forgive me. Drink the toast, Jack. She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband. So I come suppliant. Her little white hand stole across the table. How long do you think it will take him to put two and two together?’ ‘Eh bien, then if he will try to harm me, I will kill him. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered.
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