Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. "I've seen him some years ago, I believe," answered Wood; "and, though he must be much changed by this time, I dare say I should know him again. What of it?” There was a shout of laughter. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. ” “But it changes things. But, when? When do they go?’ ‘Today, miss. I get the worst headaches. This key," he added, taking it from the boy, "was purloined from me by your father, Jack.
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