‘For once, you’re talking like a sensible man. “You see, her sister is married to Ferringhall, isn’t she? and she herself must be drawing no end of a good screw here. “Beats me. ‘I am Major Gerald Alderley of the West Kent Militia. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I THE CARPET-KNIGHT AND THE 7 LADY II THE ADVENTURE OF ANNABEL 15 III ANNA? OR ANNABEL? 20 IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN 26 ARTIST V “ALCIDE” 31 VI A QUESTION OF 36 IDENTIFICATION VII MISS PELLISSIER’S SUSPICIONS 41 VIII “WHITE’S” 45 IX BRENDON’S LUCK 54 X THE TRAGEDY OF AN 61 APPETITE XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL 66 ENNISON XII THE POSTER OF “ALCIDE” 70 XIII “HE WILL NOT FORGET!” 76 XIV “THIS IS MY WIFE” 81 XV A MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE 89 XVI THE DISCOMFITURE OF SIR 96 JOHN XVII THE CHANGE IN “ALCIDE” 103 XVIII ANNABEL AND “ALCIDE” 109 XIX “THIS IS NOT THE END” 115 XX ANNA’S SURRENDER 121 XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET 126 XXII AN OLD FOOL 134 XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST XXIV A CASE FOR THE POLICE XXV THE STEEL EDGE OF THE TRUTH XXVI ANNABEL IS WARNED XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” XXIX MONTAGUE HILL PLAYS THE GAME XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE XXXI ANNA’S TEA PARTY XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER 138 144 150 156 162 169 174 178 183 188 ANNA THE ADVENTURESS Chapter I THE CARPET-KNIGHT AND THE LADY The girl paused and steadied herself for a moment against a field gate. Never before had he seen a man like Enschede nor heard a voice like Ruth's. Sheppard," said Jonathan, looking calmly on at this distressing scene, "Attend to me, and do not heed him. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. But she was disturbed, mysteriously disturbed. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. Courtlaw might have been able to give me an idea where to stop. It was too good to be true. He was standing up with the telegram crumpled in his hand. She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt.
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