I find that my dressing-case has been opened, my pocket-book examined, and I am apparently a prisoner.

I ask you, Mr.Fentolin, for an explanation." Mr.Fentolin smiled reassuringly.
"My dear sir," he said, "my dear Mr.Dunster, I believe I may have the pleasure of calling you--your conclusions seem to me just a little melodramatic.

My nephew--Gerald Fentolin--did what I consider the natural thing, under the circumstances.

You had been courteous to him, and he repaid the obligation to the best of his ability.

The accident to your train happened in a dreary part of the country, some thirty miles from here.