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“Don’t be an ass, Ferringhall,” he said tersely. “I did not recognize him,” Anna answered. ‘I cannot possibly shoot a lady, you know. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. Both had very singular faces; very odd wigs, very much pulled over their brows; and very large cravats, very much raised above their chins. Taking advantage of his embarrassed position, Jonathan and his assistant rushed upon him, and disarmed him.
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