David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. “I’m sorry Mister McCloskey! I was out seeing my boyfriend!” He stared at her concernedly. The proa bore away to the northwest out of which it had come. This did not tickle his vanity; on the contrary, it enlivened his terror, which is a phase of fascination. And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female. Also he is ugly. “I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. Wood was once a favourite of yours. I wonder if I should have locked you up if I’d been your father. "I am very wicked," she said.
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