‘Oh, peste, you make me late!’ She glared up at Roding. With his foodle doo! "Peace!" cried Jack. " "Except me, dear," insinuated Edgeworth Bess. . \" He rose and departed. ’ ‘You may arrest me later. Die game. 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. ” “Well?” “Sir John came to me—that you know—and you can guess what I told him.
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