This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. That's a queer yarn. Nay, for aught I know, some of them may even now have got scent of me. "Dead!" echoed the boy. " "Then he has been unfortunate?" "That's patent enough. " "To-morrow will be too late," replied the widow, in a hollow voice, "I feel it will. Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. “Perhaps, as I’ve only just arrived,” she remarked, “I might be forgiven if I do not change my skirt. “Where should we go?” Knowing that they would be dogged wherever they went, she volunteered, “Let’s go to the Big Apple.
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