“I am going,” he said, “to be impertinent. CHAPTER XII. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. You, sir,” he added, turning to Brendon, “had better take my card round to the police station in Werner Street and ask that Detective Dorling be sent round here at once on urgent business. She lay and nibbled at a sprig of dwarf rhododendron. The man or woman who did something for nothing always excited his suspicions; they were playing some kind of a game. “Can you not understand? It is of no use your taking my identity and all the burden of my iniquities upon your dear shoulders if I am to be recognized the moment I show my face in London.
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