It was common name, so I was thrown off the scent. 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. “You are not content then with stealing from me my name. There wasn’t, I know, between myself and my father. ’ She jumped up, and moved impatiently to the door. “The life of a private secretary is positively one of slavery. When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her. ” She led the way, talking all the time to Ennison.
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