In truth, she liked Gerald also. Jack, meanwhile, heard, the shouts, and, though alarmed by them, held on a steady course. ‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. ‘Tell me, my boy. “Ferringhall, were you or were you not dining last night at a certain restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes with—la petite Pellissier?” Now indeed Sir John was moved. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. Mr. Kneebone smiled assent.
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