Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. Others are smart but fall prey to emotional damage, the female lunar instinct of cunning that goes awry. "Weep on, reprobate," cried the carpenter, a little softened. He yielded his place and struck instead with his tongue. “I don’t know, John. ’ ‘Then leave me to guard myself, and do not ask me questions any more,’ she snapped, and crouched down suddenly, searching about for her dagger. She looked about and discovered a door partially hidden by shadow.
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