“But I wish,” she said, “I had some idea what I was really up to. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. Annabel laughed a little uneasily. ’ ‘Tchah!’ He glared at her. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. And since then, he has openly avowed his determination of cutting his master's throat on the slightest inkling of treachery. He continued his ditty, in spite of the angry glances of his leader. “I hope you have not come for that.
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