Part 2 In the late afternoon, as Ann Veronica was gathering flowers for the dinnertable, her father came strolling across the lawn toward her with an affectation of great deliberation. From time to time the man below would shout, and the boy would let the threads go with the snap of a harpist, only to recover them instantly. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. Once more breaking through the hedge he took to the fields. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful.
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