” “I don’t believe it,” he answered hoarsely. ” For some seconds he had remained quite still. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. "I want you for the job I spoke of a short time ago, Nab," he said. She opened it and drew out a letter, and folded within it were the notes she had sent off to Ramage that day. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale.
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