" "It is past," rejoined Lady Trafford, recovering herself by a powerful effort; "but never allude to the circumstance again. . In each pause she could sense his growing trepidation. But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind. Then he stood up and repeated it again. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. A wrathful God was watching him. Remember what the conjuror said. “There is a secret.
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