’ Was there a careful note in her voice? Gerald gave no sign, keeping his own tone light. He was caressing an idea. “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. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. She could tell that they too would find their legs jutting awkwardly from the petite furniture. It did not matter in the least what name the young fellow was travelling under; all James Boyle O'Higgins wanted was the letter H. “Annabel?” he exclaimed. “It is very good of you to come and see me, my dear sister,” Annabel remarked, throwing herself into a low chair, and clasping her hands over her head.
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