The Frenchman had moved back into Piccadilly from Down Street, at which the lad following him had immediately sauntered away a yard or two. Denis, did you say? I hope that no one of our friends has met with an accident. The rest were hieroglyphic characters, executed in red chalk and charcoal. ‘This was a picture of Mary Remenham that I have found today. I——” Then he stopped short, for he began to remember things. Ennison’s signet-ring had cut nearly to the bone. “The nurse will fetch the doctor directly. ‘Is she the Frenchie we’ve been watching for then, sir?’ The lady’s furious features turned on this new target. This was a much more serious task than he anticipated.
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