Montague Hill Plays the Game

The man opened his eyes and looked curiously about him.

"Where am I?" he muttered.

Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him.

"You are in a private room of St. Felix Hospital," he said.

"Hospital? What for? What's the matter with me?"

Courtlaw's voice sank to a whisper. A nurse was at the other end of
the room.

"There was an accident with a pistol in Miss Pellissier's room," he
said.

The light of memory flashed in the man's face. His brows drew a little
nearer together.

"Accident! She shot me," he muttered. "I had found her at last, and
she shot me. Listen, you. Am I going to die?"

"I am afraid that you are in a dangerous state," Courtlaw answered
gravely. "The nurse will fetch the doctor directly. I wanted to speak
to you first."

"Who are you?"

"I am a friend of Miss Pellissier's," Courtlaw answered.

"Which one?"

"The Miss Pellissier in whose rooms you were, and who sings at the
'Unusual,'" Courtlaw answered. "The Miss Pellissier who was at
White's with us."

The man nodded.

"I remember you now," he said. "So it seems that I was wrong. Annabel
was in hiding all the time."

"Annabel Pellissier is married," Courtlaw said quietly.

"She's my wife," the man muttered.

"It is possible," Courtlaw said, "that you too were deceived. Where
were you married?"

"At the English Embassy in Paris. You will find the certificate in my
pocket."

"And who made the arrangements for you, and sent you there?" Courtlaw
asked.