Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. If he stayed in the basement apartment as was his usual habit, she would have no problem. “The surgeon’s knife is surely a kindly weapon,” she declared. It was no marriage at all. " "What's that?" "Think it over," said McClintock, grimly. “This party must be so boring for you. " "With all his cunning, he may meet with his match," continued Kneebone, laughing. ‘I am far from imagining anything of the kind. ” He looked at her pleadingly. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. Terror had laid a paralyzing hand upon her, fear kept her almost unconscious of the curious glances which she was continually attracting.
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