Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. She shuddered; the room was unfamiliar and unwelcoming. But as Rowland sprang to the helm, and gave the signal for pursuit, a roar like a volley of ordnance was heard aloft, and the wind again burst its bondage. She breathed deeply. " "Who cares if we do?" retorted Sheppard, with a look of defiance.
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