Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. “I can get very angry. ‘Like you?’ ‘But I am not French. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. I have had a good many desperate engagements in my time, and have generally come off victorious. “On or about the day you receive this letter, Anna, the six months will be up. “You and Anna,” she said, “seem to have stumbled upon a mare’s nest. ‘There is Bernadette, Marie-Thérèse, Marie-Joséphine, Marie-Claire, Henriette—’ Exasperated, Gerald seized her by the shoulders. Care for a hundred up?” Ennison shook his head.
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