“Turned out to be an impostor, too. His countenance was almost as white and rigid as that of the corpse by his side. Hartford, Connecticut; she had registered that address; but there was something so mystifyingly Oriental about her that the address only thickened the haze behind which she moved. I knew it. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. Wood grasped his companion's arm to attract his attention to this unexpected means of escape. I'll think no more about her. For this three weeks had been the hardest of her life. "And the next time Captain Darrell wants a witness, I promise you he shan't look for one in vain. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. ” He paused. ‘Besides, I don’t want the men blundering in here and frightening off our spy.
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