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148 “Sure. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. “Hill has asked for you, and they will take his depositions to-night. "When is he to suffer?" she demanded, fixing her large black eyes, which burnt with an insane gleam, upon him. "But calm yourself, dear sister, or the interview will be too much for you. ” Lucy replied. It struck his forehead, splitting it, and brought him to his knees. She stopped abruptly, and looked in a flower-shop window. She remembered possessing it during the Gold Rush. My reception at West Kensington you know of. She took her hat from the peg in the corner and began to put it on.
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