Father— dead. Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. “So Brendon and I,” he said, “have been troubled with the same fears. ” “Damn!” he remarked at the defaced letter; and, taking a fresh sheet, he recopied what he had written. ‘You make a game with me, I think. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. Her eyes still had the fevered glow of sickness, yet she seemed in perfect health. ” He relapsed into a stony silence. I’m sorry.
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