“Sebastianus? Where did my husband go?” He smiled at her gently, patronizingly, as he prevented her from movement or escape. She found her foster father and Mike still awake, playing high stakes UNO at the dimly lit kitchen table. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. He declined supper, but took wine. Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask.
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