Sir Rowland is one of us," he added, winking at his companions, "and so was his brother-in-law, Sir Cecil Trafford. This hand consigned him to destruction, but another was stretched forth to save him. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. They were headed by an athleticlooking, swarthy-featured man, who was armed with a cutlass, which he waved over his head to cheer on his companions. ‘Lawks-a-mussy! It’s Miss Mary. There were a few loose, broken fragments of rock to reckon with upon the ledges, and one place where hands did as much work as toes. And I passed myself off as Meysey Hill, and since—then—I haven’t had a minute’s peace. You do not believe his statement?" "I do not," replied Winifred.
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