“The Annabel who lives here, who sings every night at the ‘Unusual’? They call her by your old name. ' Upon which the other answered, 'that he accepted his invitation with pleasure, and would make a point of waiting upon him,' Ha! ha! ha!" "Did he say so?" cried Shotbolt. “Hotel Ritz!” Chapter XXXI ANNA’S TEA PARTY “I suppose you haven’t the least idea who I am,” Lady Lescelles said, as she settled herself in Anna’s most comfortable chair. Lucy stared at the girl for a long ten seconds, and then looked away. Once she stopped in front of a mirror and looked at herself thoughtfully. “Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded. Through her door curtain she could see the light from the study lamp. It was the blood she found that cemented her decision that her foster daughter was a criminal. Nothing like the direct approach, she thought.
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