Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. " "That's right," replied Wild, with a ghastly smile. “I had a faint idea once that things were as you say they are, but the affair of the ring—of the unexpected ring—puzzled me. Left to Capting Roding, as he told me hisself, you’d be in prison this moment. In Darrell's open features, frankness and honour were written in legible characters; while, in Jack's physiognomy, cunning and knavery were as strongly imprinted. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out.
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