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” “It’s the perpetual trouble,” he said, “of parent and child. ” Chapter XXVI ANNABEL IS WARNED “You!” David Courtlaw crossed the floor of the dingy little sitting-room with outstretched hands. ‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him. His complexion was pale; and there was something sinister in the expression of his large black eyes. He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. He shook his head all the time.
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