Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. "The only disguise I ever put on is a dress-suit, and I look as natural as a pig at a Mahomedan dinner. “You’re exactly as I remember you!” “Forever fifteen, remember?” She stepped closer to him into the light of the television screen. From the freshness of the stains, which grew more frequent as they approached the adjoining chamber, it was evident some violence had been recently perpetrated, and the carpenter's own blood froze within his veins as he thought, with a thrill of horror, that, perhaps on this very spot, not many minutes before his arrival, his adopted son might have been inhumanly butchered. “I had a visit from Sir John in my rooms,” she said.
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