“Ferringhall, were you or were you not dining last night at a certain restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes with—la petite Pellissier?” Now indeed Sir John was moved. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. Anybody in pain had only to call to him. ’ Kimble’s eyes widened. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. With astonishment, Gerald saw a rheumy film rimming his old commander’s eyes. “The horse’s knees are broken, and I am not sure that the man is sober. Sheppard had been interred.
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