Then, one night, he glanced up to behold Ruth and Rollo in the doorway. He had not had time to aim the pistol. Perhaps Ferringhall has pensioned her off. His clothes had evidently seen some service, and were plentifully begrimed with the dust of the workshop. A stiff, formally-cut coat of cinnamon-coloured cloth, with rows of plate buttons, each of the size of a crown piece, on the sleeves, pockets, and skirts, reached the middle of his legs; and his costume was completed by the silver-hilted sword at his side, and the laced hat under his left arm. “I hope,” Annabel answered lazily, “that you have succeeded.
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