Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. "How is the patient?" he asked. " "Well, that's fine. “Close your eyes. Eh bien, why did he not repeat it? What was she to say? ‘Prudence,’ she began hesitantly, pronouncing the name in the French way, ‘has said that she will help me to—to marry an Englishman. ” “My dear young lady,” the official said irritably, “this man would not have your name and address in his pocket without an object. ‘That is the man who tries to kill me, but he wounded instead my servant. I love him!" She was weak and dizzy: from horror as much as from physical exertion. Her formerly brown hair was dyed a white shade of blonde.
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