“You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. “My charm of manner, I suppose. As Spurlock called her name, she paused and turned. ’ The dagger was in her hand. My son went down after his death. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. “Is that plain?” she asked. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers. Mother—dear mother!" he added, clasping her in his arms, "Look at me again. Spurlock went, it would not be far enough. Certainly, we—that is Jarvis and I— knew nothing of it until after Mary’s death.
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