Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. "I don't think he would," acquiesced the carpenter. . "I have done nothing—nothing to what I could do—to what I will do!" "You've done quite enough," rejoined Austin; "more than you'll ever do again. "I've done no more than my duty, Mrs. The Bitchster strikes again. ‘Parbleu, I hope that I do not have many more times to come in this way to the house,’ she muttered fretfully. There is turmoil, shouts, cries, jostlings, milling congestions that suddenly break and flow in opposite directions. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. If he took a fancy to you, he invited you to the house for tea, bitter and yellow and served in little cups without handles. Dolby smiled.
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