Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. He returned her to her door at a decent hour, well before 10:00. ’ ‘Tchah!’ He glared at her. He would never be able to figure out that: all these miles from Cuba, and you could get a perfecto for thirteen cents. —I'll give him the edication of a prig,—teach him the use of his forks betimes,—and make him, in the end, as clever a cracksman as his father. The assassination, as you call it, was, obviously, the vengeance of a kinsman of the injured lady, who no doubt was of good family, upon her seducer. Who is it?” The man came a little further into the room. A wrathful God was watching him.
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