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Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. Half an hour afterwards the body of Jack was carefully examined. Time enough to do so when she has her affairs settled—if she can settle them. His attitude was as different from Gianfrancesco’s as night was from day. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. She moved her hand off of his knee, deliberately slow.
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