Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. Come with me, Langley, and bring the lantern. The idea of your being a failure would never have occurred to me. I won't have a beachcomber on the island. Balked, Melusine halted. I hated the stuff. ’ It was the Press who forced the identity upon me. He HAD followed her! What had he followed her for? He must have followed her all the way from beyond Grosvenor Square. The Storm. The crown has passed from the brow of one monarch to that of another.
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