My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. He was tender with her as he had not been in years. “Poor old daddy! I wonder if he’ll spend much on the fatted calf?. . The young man was mollified by her sympathy, and flattered by the obvious attempts of several of the other guests to draw him into conversation. \"Actually, John, I really must get going. ” He raised his hand, and they saw that he was holding a small revolver.
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