’ She gestured at his hand, on which Roding’s makeshift bandage had been replaced by a more efficient one. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. ’ ‘I dare say you do,’ said the general, grim satisfaction overtaking his anger as his prophesy proved accurate. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. Give me my pistol and my dagger. I would have liked to know.
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