Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. I hid because there was no other way of seeing you. And son of a pig,’ she grunted, baring her teeth. I left him in charge of Quilt Arnold and Rykhart Van Galgebrok—the skipper I spoke of— with strict orders to shoot him if he made any further attempt at escape; and they're not lads—the latter especially—to be trifled with. Wood—" "That's false!" cried a voice behind him.
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