As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. In the struggle, Mrs. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. And, if ever I'm brought to the gallows, I shall lay my death at her door. Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London.
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