CHAPTER XXX. I don’t want to bother you, of course. Pull yourself together, Annabel! I must have the truth. This was David Courtlaw, whose ways, too, had never been very different from the ways of other men as regards her sex. If you choose, you can see him put on board the Zeeslang yourself, Sir Rowland. ‘Tee-ree-sa. Now, he must have folks somewhere. He won’t have menservants inside the house, and his collection of carriages is only fit for a museum—where most of his friends ought to be, by-the-bye. But take a drop of wine," urged he, filling a drinking-horn and presenting it to her; "it's choice canary, and'll do you good. I’ll be ready in a moment. ‘Ah, the tragedy. My proposition is for you to keep an eye on him, and the moment he puts on his clothes to send me a telegram, care of the HongKong Hotel. ‘I thought it was his great-nephew, young Brewis Charvill, who is his heir.
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