" And, with the uninjured hand he drew a pistol, which he fired, but without effect, at Jack. “It’s too bad. “A new admirer, Annabel? But what has that to do with your going to England?” “Everything! He is Sir John Ferringhall—very stupid, very respectable, very egotistical. Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror. ” Or someone, she thought with disgust. Then a third secretarial opening occurred and renewed her hopes again: a position as amanuensis—with which some of the lighter duties of a nurse were combined— to an infirm gentleman of means living at Twickenham, and engaged upon a great literary research to prove that the “Faery Queen” was really a treatise upon molecular chemistry written in a peculiar and picturesquely handled cipher. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. CHAPTER VII.
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