‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. Ramage seemed always fencing about the forbidden topic, probing for openings, and she wondered why she did not give him them. "I do," replied Sheppard. And they pay her. E. ” “My dear young lady,” the official said irritably, “this man would not have your name and address in his pocket without an object. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. By this time Capes’ hair had bleached nearly white, and his skin had become a skin of red copper shot with gold.
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