Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. Not the most stringent search, conducted all morning, turned up one solitary sheet. He wore a long coat, beautifully flowered, and a hat with a turned up brim. Even Blueskin looked on with anxiety. Surely she could ignore him. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am. ‘Don’t want it to break out bleeding again.
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