Ennison’s acquaintance. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. I want to give you warning that I have set myself to solve it. And, though it's a long time ago, I feel as sore on the subject as ever. "Do you hear that! We are not wholly at fault. An ill-lined purse is a poor recompense for the risk I have run.
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