Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. “What’s that for?” He said. ‘Eh bien, does that mean that you will do it again?’ ‘Not if I can help it,’ Gerald uttered, alarmed. You should go home today and get some rest. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you.
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