Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. On these were thrown all the horrible contents of Jonathan's museum, together with the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard. Drink the toast, Jack. ‘Certainly you are imbecile. Satisfied in this respect, he flung himself into a chair, for his iron frame seldom required the indulgence of a bed, and sought an hour's repose before he began the villanies of another day. Adieu! my charmer. . I will endeavour. ‘And so?’ she asked. ” “You meant to say ‘morbid’.
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