Ann Veronica sat down in the other arm-chair and darned badly for a minute or so. F. She accepted his rejoinder with a brief nod. ‘Yes, don’t interrupt me,’ said Captain Roding severely. 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. It never has had. Suffer me to precede you. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison.
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