So he made his dispositions and went off on some other fool’s errand. But, in spite of his outcries and resistance, he was dragged along by Jonathan and his janizaries. They exchanged greetings with the clarinetist. He uttered her name and his excitement grew when he did not feel a bra. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being. He had a narrow escape, however; for, passing within an inch of him, the bullet burried itself deeply in the wall. The mock astonishment of his face immediately became genuine.
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