My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. " "No. . She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. Not very long, if you want to get well. ” He laughed. He then arose, and, taking a few turns in the chamber, stopped suddenly before her. Well, if she survives the accident—as the blood, who styles himself Sir Cecil, fancies she may do—this ring will make my fortune by leading to the discovery of the chief parties concerned in this strange affair. What of it?” There was a shout of laughter.
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