It filled his thoughts for the rest of the day, and became an obsession. Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. And what was singular she did not recount to the doctor that morning's adventure. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. “Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up. Auntie has taken the nails out of my palms, but the scars will always be there. She could not speak.
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