They were on their way back home, or so she had thought. Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. “Don’t!” she said, weakly, as he had bent down and put one arm about her and seized her hands with his disengaged hand and kissed her—kissed her almost upon her lips. She listened with growing apprehension to the tale that Gerald told, omitting any mention of pistols and daggers, and at the end delivered herself of various expletives highly unsuited to a lady of her advanced years. “I don’t see quite what your game is, Vee, but I suppose you’ve got a game on somewhere. Yet he’s been here for six years, and he’s as much a fixture as that sham mahogany sideboard.
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