Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. That poor child, trying to escape, and not knowing how. "Here's a cross-bite. Drink this!” He poured out a glass of wine with a firm hand, and held it to her lips. But what else he saw fit to teach her I do not care to stipulate. His most eager inquiries and most lavish bribes could gain no further information than that she had left for England, and that her address was—London. "It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. "Sorry," said McClintock, "but I must ask you to check out this afternoon before five.
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