“I think,” he said, “that I am right. Annabel! Annabel!” His voice became a shriek. Then he sat down and filled his pipe slowly and thoughtfully. During this colloquy, Jack had contrived unobserved to put on the hood and cloak, and being about the size of the rightful owner, presented a very tolerable resemblance to her. Each one had been different from the others, each had had a quality all its own, a distinctive freshness, a distinctive beauty. She had not felt comfortable in his presence from the first, and with Leonardo’s precepts in mind, was loath to trust him. He had been on the point of leaving the restaurant. Conscientious objectors to that process are not permitted, she found, in Canongate. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. Anna admitted the fact.
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