Edward Bribble stood between them with an open book. Listening attentively, he fancied he heard the breathing of some one near him, and moved cautiously in the opposite direction. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. There is a small yewtree west of the church. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. Hope reared. Wrenched from their holds, the iron palisades in front of the thief-taker's dwelling were used as weapons to burst open the door.
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