The silence grew unbearable, so she asked, \"What is your surname, John?\" \"My surname? You mean my last name?\" \"Yes. “There is something to be said for the lady-like theory after all,” she admitted. Their conversation was conducted in the flash language, and, though unintelligible to Wood, was easily comprehended by this companion, who learnt, to her dismay, that the wounded man had received his hurt from her son, whose courage and dexterity formed the present subject of their discourse. “What on earth did you expect me to do, then?” he asked. “I am afraid—I really think that one of us ought to go with you,” he said. Something seemed awry. His father was one of my old customers, and I am happy to find his son treading in his steps. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. "Not so," replied Jack, throwing down the skreen.
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