I wrenched this off, and in an envelope addressed to me in faded ink, I found the locket and the pearls. " "I declare I don't know what to do," said Wood, burned by conflicting emotions. But you, Ferringhall, our pattern, an erstwhile Sheriff of London, a county magistrate, a prospective politician, a sober and an upright man, one who, had he aspired to it, might even have filled the glorious position of Lord Mayor— James, a whisky and Apollinaris at once. On the other hand the two young men who sat on either side of Anna were already throwing murderous glances at the newcomer.
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