Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t. The Frenchman had moved back into Piccadilly from Down Street, at which the lad following him had immediately sauntered away a yard or two. "I alone am to blame. Morgan the trader did not haggle over the pearls, but gave me at once what he judged a fair price. For I still love her mother. Availing himself of certain inequalities in the door, he soon managed to climb up to the roof; and securing his feet against a slight projection in the wall, began to use the fork with great effect.
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