‘Your niece, ma’am. —'How so?' says I. “It was,” she admitted. You did not complain then that I personated you—no, nor when Sir John came to me in Paris, and for your sake I lied. ’ ‘True enough,’ nodded Martha sadly. ” He was silent for some moments. ” He was dressed in his uniform of a Polo shirt and twill pants. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. It struck his forehead, splitting it, and brought him to his knees. So I introduced him to my father-in-law like a shot. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress.
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