But never would any so dishonour himself as to hand a fellow rogue over to the authorities. ‘Now you see why it is I no longer require the proof of which I have spoken. ” “He was probably right,” she declared. It is extraordinary. A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. Suddenly Anna felt her hand seized and imprisoned in Courtlaw’s burning fingers. It appears that he was an unsuccessful admirer of the lady in question, and he admits that, under the influence of drink, he broke into her rooms, and there made a determined attempt at suicide. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music.
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