He drew an awed breath. But I trusted to that ring of yours. “Let us escape,” she said. “I wonder,” he said, “is there anything we could do to help you to get rid of him?” “Can you think of anything?” Anna answered. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. ’ ‘What offer?’ she asked, suspicion rife in her voice. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him.
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