‘But you do not understand, mon ami. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. "Take a drop of brandy before we start, watchman," said Wood, pouring out a glass of spirit, and presenting it to Terence, who smacked his lips as he disposed of it. Here again the clothes were minus the labels. “Your name and address were upon an envelope found in the pocket of an Englishman who was brought here late last night suffering from serious injuries,” he said in a dry official tone. After all, he had the means of setting this tormenting doubt at rest. He laughed. I found it on the beach, just sitting there nestled inside a piece of driftwood.
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