Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. It contained three sovereigns, six and fourpence, two postage stamps, a small key, and her aunt’s return half ticket to Morningside Park. Yes; she had heard the music the night before. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. Unless he has killed someone. ” “But how?” “I poured him out some port wine, and I said—let me see—oh, ‘You are going to be a grandfather!’” “Yes. Couldn’t make head nor tail of that note of yours. He is in the secret passage. Gerald at once lowered his voice to that intimate level again, and leaned towards her.
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