ABOUT THE STORY Annabel Pellissier, for reasons of her own, allows Sir John Ferringhall to believe that she is her sister Anna. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. He was brooding over her, she could sense it, and the shadowy circles around his lovely dark eyes bespoke a terrible ongoing insomnia. You know very well that you took from my easel David Courtlaw’s study of me, and sent it to Cariolus. Tell me all that happened, one sister-woman to another. You desire to know who he was, Sir Rowland.
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