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"What?—help take care of him? Why, you can't do that, Miss Enschede!" was the protest. The assassination, as you call it, was, obviously, the vengeance of a kinsman of the injured lady, who no doubt was of good family, upon her seducer. Whenever McClintock had guests, he loafed with them on the west veranda in the morning. Wood was once a favourite of yours. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. He was alarmed when she returned to the stage and her eyes passed over him in the audience.
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