“Please let me drive you home. . You dear, dear girl. " There was a pause. O'Higgins. ‘You have come to me in place of Gérard? But how is it you will help me?’ ‘That’s all right and tight. I’ll have to think of something else. ” Annabel looked at him curiously. Perhaps you'll give me in return some token, by which I may remind you of this occurrence, in case we meet again. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. And if she was ever found living in the area like that, homeless, John could somehow find out. From beginning to end it was first-hand stuff. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe.
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