Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. " "My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the woollen-draper. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. ” The detective turned again to Anna.
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