” “Not quite so easily as it explains an insect alighting on colored paper. It proved to be a human head, though with scarcely a vestige of the features remaining. You are somebody’s secretary, are you not?” It was plain that the subject was distasteful to her, but Ennison, although famous in a small way for his social tact, did not at once discard it. I will have nothing to do with you. Had Gosse taken it as he escaped? What could she do? Gosse now knew that she was the daughter of Mary Remenham. Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment. But pathologically, he is still on the edge.
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