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The rest were hieroglyphic characters, executed in red chalk and charcoal. Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. It is useless to talk. “I had a faint idea once that things were as you say they are, but the affair of the ring—of the unexpected ring—puzzled me. Rank ingratitude, I call it. “I cannot say who he is,” said Ann Veronica, “but he is a married man. He is probably very wealthy. "Is there anything wrong with it?" "Wrong? Why, you have been imposed upon somewhere. It was a port of call, since fortnightly a British mail-boat dropped her mudhook in the bay.
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