Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. “What is a ballot-box like, exactly?” she asked, as though it was very important to her. . “Yes,” she said, very faintly. Lost ground must be regained. He was evidently nervous, and very anxious to be impressive; his projecting eyes sought to dominate. Caution forced her to speak calmly. ’ Colour suffused the man’s face. He showed me a black mark under his ear, where the noose would be tied.
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