Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. Are you sure you're not misinformed, Sir?" "I was in the Lodge at the time," replied the jailer. "If the best nag ever foaled were to throw me in this unlucky spot, I'd blow his brains out. Then she turned, and entering the inner room, commenced to dress hastily for the street. He helped himself to a beer, then a vodka and tonic, then two rum and Cokes. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. ‘One of they Frenchies, that’s what I say—if it ain’t a ghost. For a space he rode the whirligig.
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