” “Annabel is a prophetess,” he declared. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. Barleycorn had sent to the mat for the count of nine: unless the young fool's daddy had a bundle of coin. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you. The man who came to our rooms, you know, that night was his friend. There was the motor accident, too. Anna left the room on tiptoe. Instantly I knew that I was going to run away that night before he returned from the neighbouring island. He will have it that I’ve taken leave of my senses.
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