E. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. I would sooner see you in a ’bus again. She screamed as she saw that their throats had been ripped out and their dead eyes bulged with horror as their heads lolled from mere strings of sinew and flesh. ’ The lady hesitated a moment, her eyes seeming to measure the distance between where he stood and the door. I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. To-morrow he might be sorry; but to-day, this hour! She rose, not quickly, but with a dignity which only accentuated her beauty.
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