Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. Only Gwen left a letter on the pincushion. Ran in the family. Every gibbet at Tyburn and Hounslow appeared to have been plundered of its charnel spoil to enrich the adjoining cabinet, so well was it stored with skulls and bones, all purporting to be the relics of highwaymen famous in their day. If and when Ray was ever found, she would be long gone and they would be unable to explain what had happened to him. It had, as it were, blown up at the concussion of his first step. "Are you a poltroon, after all?" "That's it! I ought to have died that night!" "Or is there a taint of insanity in your family history? Alone and practically penniless like yourself! You weren't even stirred by gratitude. " But Spurlock put up his guard. In mailing the tales he had not enclosed return postage or the equivalent in money. "Mr.
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