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"Where is he?" he cried. ” “The only Montague Hill I ever knew,” Annabel said slowly, “is dead. I doubt I hold any interest for him anymore. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. No instrument I've ever used has done me such good service. " After all those former bitter failures, this cup was sweet, even if there was the flavour of irony. You'll find the benefit of it by and by. " "Then you're heartily welcome, Sir, whoever you are.
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