That was the glorious if bewildering truth. "I shan't sleep a wink while Jack Sheppard's in the house. Of all the entirely English women I know, you’re the only one with a French accent. He stood transfixed. Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it.
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