Tell me I haven’t heard. ‘Trespasses,’ supplied Gerald. “I won’t pretend,” he said, “that this is an accident. Only last night she saw me, and there was horror in her eyes. “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. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. ’ ‘I’m that sorry, miss,’ Kimble said glumly. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall.
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