Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. Next instant, Gerald felt his wrist seized in an iron grip. It filled her with indefinable fear. “You’re—I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica. And now—Dear! Dear! The dayspring from on high hath visited me. As he pocketed it, her open palm reached out and slapped his cheek.
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