She whispered, “Another car is coming,” as lights approached their car. Sheppard, again arresting his departure. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. We are going to have this chap writing books one of these days. I’m taking no chances. ” She smiled grimly at the recollection of that lunch—tea and roll at a cheap café. " "A secret!" exclaimed Trenchard. CHAPTER XXIX. That’s all. “Oh, dammit!” he remarked, “dammit!” with great bitterness as he faced it. Her tone was icy.
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