" CHAPTER XX To Spurlock it seemed as if a great iron door had swung in behind him, shutting out the old world. ‘Think it’s worth getting some sort of light and following her down there?’ asked Roding. But you, Ferringhall, our pattern, an erstwhile Sheriff of London, a county magistrate, a prospective politician, a sober and an upright man, one who, had he aspired to it, might even have filled the glorious position of Lord Mayor— James, a whisky and Apollinaris at once. "Stop a minute," cried Jack, detaining his mistresses. "Devil!" cried Jack; "that blow shall cost you your life. " "As many as you please," replied Wood, walking towards the chimney-piece, and taking down a constable's, staff, which hung upon a nail.
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