CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. The age of this individual could not be more than twenty-one; his figure was tall, robust, and gracefully proportioned; and his clear gray eye and open countenance bespoke a frank, generous, and resolute nature. Ennison, who had been standing with his back to the window, came suddenly a little further into the room. “Did you see who that was?” he asked in a low tone. “Have you dropped from the skies?” Sydney asked wonderingly. Now the pig knew where to find her—for it would not take long for a Catholic to locate the convent in Golden Square—even if she escaped him here. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. Brute! Fool! To have come to her on such an errand. In this spy theory, however, he had no faith whatsoever. I awaken easily. Whenever she came upon the obliterated word and paused, her father would say: "Faith.
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