‘It is London’s loss, ma’am. ” Lady Ferringhall was conscious of some relief. The tail-ender of this little caravan, he had been rather out of it. The window was shortly after opened, and a rope ladder, with a lighted horn lantern attached to it, let down. He did not like it, he said, with a significant look, to be reminded of either his books or his dinners after he had done with them. In her usual style, she interviewed him for his life and was pleased that he liked nothing more than to talk about himself. Wild, however, proved, on the evidence of his own servants, that he was at the Old Bailey at the time; and Sir Rowland proved that he was in Manchester. “You were going to answer it?” “Certainly not!” she said deliberately.
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