Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. Earles closed the piano with a little bang. I’d only get a pack of lies in reply. Very gently indeed, Alderley grasped the handle of the door and stealthily turned it. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was. Had he been listening inside? ‘What is amiss?’ ‘That Frenchie, sir. We’ll be somewhere on the floor above. She was saying good-bye to childhood and home, and her making; she was going out into the great, multitudinous world; this time there would be no returning. Let us have no more of this humbug. She expanded that.
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