” Chapter XXV THE STEEL EDGE OF THE TRUTH The manservant, with his plain black clothes and black tie, had entered the room with a deferential little gesture. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. I thought then perhaps you didn’t care, that you were like so many of them. The wings stopped. You don’t know. You are wrong even about that man’s scientific position and his standard of work. The business of serving gave Gerald a few moment’s grace, for he was dubious about the effect on an elderly female, not in the best of health, of raking up old memories.
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