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” “Why on earth—? A man ought to be labelled. Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. Its walled heaved with black mildew and sea-salt. The inside was empty except for an infant, which from a distance looked utterly normal. The younger of the two, who was seated next to Jack, and seemed to monopolize his attention, could not be more than seventeen, though her person had all the maturity of twenty. "Thanks. ‘But I don’t trust you an inch. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. " With these words, he tore the mantle from Wood's back, and, perceiving the child, endeavoured to seize it.
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