Are you prepared to do it?” Her hands clenched. But she was disturbed, mysteriously disturbed. “I drink your very good health, Sir John and Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “and I wish you a pleasant journey back to England. At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. The van started with a jerk and rumbled on its way. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly.
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