Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. Having now sealed his letter, Sheppard took a handkerchief, and tying it over Shotbolt's face, so as completely to conceal the features, clapped his hat upon his head, and pushed it over his brows. The effects of the heroin wore off slowly. Pistols and pictures? Now it fair goes agin’ me nature to act rough with a lady, but you’ll come along of me at once. ‘How could I know that it is you?’ She peered at him in the darkness.
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