“By-the-bye, Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “do you know that I am a very great admirer of your sister’s? I wonder if she has ever spoken to you of me. “Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!” She did not speak. “I wish you would come and see my lawyers. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock. You did not find him, but did you find his pistol? In the room beyond the bookroom there—a big room where a table had fallen. ‘You are wise, Marthe.
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