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Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. Strewn across the bed was a multitude of jumbled garments. You're an angel of goodness. "Is your master at home?" inquired the jailer. I've got an address here. ” To remain, she felt, was to concede everything. Her head had been shaved, and around it was swathed a piece of rag, in which a few straws were stuck.
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