Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. Nor Jacques. The prostitute’s attack was predictable, typical. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. Manning? I suppose there’s a sort of place like a ticket-office. A fever of shame ran through her being. She walked through the walls. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form.
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