“What year was 221 that, about 1350?” He asked in wonderment. ‘Pen and paper, do you have them?’ ‘Danged if I have,’ came the truculent response. 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. The guards, horse and foot, and constables formed a wide circle round it to keep off the mob. " Spurlock, who was absorbing this talk thirstily, laughed. Your son was seen by the carpenter's wife in company with the robbers.
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