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Updated: June 14, 2025
"Ennison here thought he saw her in London," Meddoes remarked. Drummond nodded. "Very likely. The two sisters were very fond of one another, I believe. Perhaps Sir John is going to take the other one under his wing. Who's for a rubber of whist?" Ennison made so many mistakes that he was glad to cut out early in the evening. He walked across the Park and called upon his sister.
"No doubt about that, I fancy," Meddoes answered lightly. "He ran some Austrian fellow off. She was quite the rage, in a small way, you know. Strange, demure-looking young woman, with wonderful complexion and eyes, and a style about her, too. Care for a hundred up?" Ennison shook his head. "Can't stop, thanks," he answered. "See you to-night, I suppose?" He sauntered off.
Hitchings, who seem to be absolutely engrossed in one another, and a boy of about seventeen, who no sooner got here than he discovered that he wanted to see a man in the promenade and disappeared." Ennison at once seated himself. "I feel justified then," he said, "in annexing his chair. I expect you had been snubbing him terribly."
Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. And then at the street corner she came face to face with Nigel Ennison. "I won't pretend," he said, "that this is an accident. The fates are never so kind to me. As a matter of fact I have been waiting for you."
They talked lightly and smoked cigarettes till Anna, with a little laugh, threw open the window and let in the cool night air. Ennison stood by her side. They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight.
"It's Ennison, isn't it?" he exclaimed. "What the devil are you doing star-gazing here?" Ennison looked at him in surprise. "I might return the compliment, Courtlaw," he answered, "by asking why the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man." Courtlaw was pale and dishevelled. He was carelessly dressed, and there were marks of unrest upon his features.
Hill sat up on the pavement and mopped the blood from his cheek. Ennison's signet-ring had cut nearly to the bone. "What the devil do you mean by coming for me like that?" Ennison exclaimed, glowering down upon him. "Serves you right if I'd cracked your skull." Hill looked up at him, an unkempt, rough-looking object, with broken collar, tumbled hair, and the blood slowly dripping from his face.
Ennison started and looked anxiously at Anna. She was quite unconcerned. "Did you see who that was?" he asked in a low tone. "I did not recognize him," Anna answered. "I supposed that he took off his hat to you." "It was Cheveney!" he said slowly. "Cheveney!" she repeated. "I do not know any one of that name." He caught her wrist and turned her face towards him.
The ambitions of his life, and they were many, seemed to lie far away, broken up dreams in some outside world where the way was rough and the sky always grey. A little table covered with a damask cloth was dragged out. There were cakes and sandwiches for Ennison a sort of Elysian feast, long to be remembered.
"You have seen her since last night?" "Yes." Anna shivered a little. She asked no further questions for the moment. Ennison himself, with the recollection of Annabel's visit still fresh in his mind, was for a moment constrained and ill at ease. When they reached her rooms she stepped lightly out upon the pavement. "Now you must go," she said firmly. "I have had a trying evening and I need rest."
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