“La belle ‘Alcide,’ wasn’t it? Annabel Pellissier was her real name. —BRENDON. ” He gave the note to the parlormaid the next morning in an inadvertent, casual manner just as he was leaving the house to catch his London train. Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard. And pouring the contents of a small powderflask into a bumper of brandy, he tendered him the mixture. She heard them diving after her, and noted their starting eyes as they spied the opened panel. "Keep off, you accursed jade!" roared Jonathan, "—off, I say, or—" And he struck her a violent blow with his clenched hand. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind.
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