"To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. But you, Ferringhall, our pattern, an erstwhile Sheriff of London, a county magistrate, a prospective politician, a sober and an upright man, one who, had he aspired to it, might even have filled the glorious position of Lord Mayor— James, a whisky and Apollinaris at once. ’ ‘You little fiend,’ exclaimed Gerald wrathfully. " "Silly love stories?" "No; love wasn't the theme. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. Wood strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying skiff. Before Jonathan followed he turned to face his assailants.
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