This done, he let himself carefully down by it, and having only a few feet to drop, alighted in safety. I felt—I felt living in a masked world. . ’ ‘Yes, it’s all my fault,’ he agreed soothingly, ‘and you may rail at me presently as much as you please. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. “Hotel Ritz,” he said mechanically to the coachman. “Annabel?” he exclaimed. Wood from pressing his suit long ago. Prom a knot of idlers at a public-house, he learnt that Jonathan Wild had just ridden past, and that his setters were scouring the country in every direction. "Yes; but what is good isn't always proper. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him.
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