CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I THE CARPET-KNIGHT AND THE 7 LADY II THE ADVENTURE OF ANNABEL 15 III ANNA? OR ANNABEL? 20 IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN 26 ARTIST V “ALCIDE” 31 VI A QUESTION OF 36 IDENTIFICATION VII MISS PELLISSIER’S SUSPICIONS 41 VIII “WHITE’S” 45 IX BRENDON’S LUCK 54 X THE TRAGEDY OF AN 61 APPETITE XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL 66 ENNISON XII THE POSTER OF “ALCIDE” 70 XIII “HE WILL NOT FORGET!” 76 XIV “THIS IS MY WIFE” 81 XV A MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE 89 XVI THE DISCOMFITURE OF SIR 96 JOHN XVII THE CHANGE IN “ALCIDE” 103 XVIII ANNABEL AND “ALCIDE” 109 XIX “THIS IS NOT THE END” 115 XX ANNA’S SURRENDER 121 XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET 126 XXII AN OLD FOOL 134 XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST XXIV A CASE FOR THE POLICE XXV THE STEEL EDGE OF THE TRUTH XXVI ANNABEL IS WARNED XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” XXIX MONTAGUE HILL PLAYS THE GAME XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE XXXI ANNA’S TEA PARTY XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER 138 144 150 156 162 169 174 178 183 188 ANNA THE ADVENTURESS Chapter I THE CARPET-KNIGHT AND THE LADY The girl paused and steadied herself for a moment against a field gate. Here Marvel, the executioner, who was in attendance, was commanded by Wild to tie his thumbs together, which he did with whipcord so tightly, that the string cut to the bone. " "Never mind," said the old sailor, taking up a piece of blazing coal with the tongs, and applying it to his pipe; "let 'em try. "You'd better surrender quietly, Jack," he cried; "you've no chance. Quilt was not long in following his example. \"Yes, he's hot, drives a great car, parents are loaded, and, of course, as you say, good-looking. ‘And me—’ ‘You, mademoiselle, are more trouble than you’re worth, and I’ll thank you to —’ ‘Hilary, don’t,’ said Lucy, and Melusine’s rising temper cooled a little. There was one letter. A physiognomist, indeed, would have likened him to that crafty animal, and it must be owned the general formation of his features favoured such a comparison. She felt a little ashamed of herself, a bit of a hypocrite. Wood—" "That's false!" cried a voice behind him. If there was a Yankee bar-keep in HongKong, James Boyle would soon locate him. One of them was a stout square-built man, with a singularly swarthy complexion, and harsh forbidding features. Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been.
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