‘I cannot possibly shoot a lady, you know. And we won’t make it so. I set myself to find employment. “Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. Thames returned no answer. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. She looked at him mournfully. That is good. Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. “You did your best to kill me,” he said.
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