Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. It had been easy to steal. ‘Hang it all, Mrs Sindlesham is right! You are two of a kind. Sheila pounded the kitchen table, causing the bell jar with the silk flowers to tip over and roll to the floor. "And yet, he has been spared thus long; perhaps with a wise purpose," rejoined Thames. The coachman having received his order, and being offered an extra fare if he drove quickly, set off at full speed. Refused admittance, they broke open the door. Anyhow, that is how things are. He turned in at the club. Ever hear of the djinn in the bottle? Like enough. Hurrying in the direction of the supposed arrest, they encouraged each other with shouts, and threatened the offending parties with their vengeance. Ann Veronica stared at his foolish, propitiatory smile, his hungry gaze, through one moment of amazement, then stepped aside and went on her way with a quickened step. John knew everybody, it seemed.
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