My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. Such pretty manners, she thought. After dessert was finished, John took Lucy for a ride in his car. "Is the governor within?" "Yes; you'll find him in the audience-chamber. A terrible spectacle was presented to the young man's gaze:—the floor deluged with blood—the mangled and lifeless body of Mrs. Her head swam. So it would always be between herself and Manning. But how to avail himself of it was the question, for in his present garb he was sure to be recognised. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. Drummond nodded.
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