VI

“And my dear Mortimer,” returned Eugene, lightly fanning away the smoke with his hand for the better exposition of his frankness of face and manner, “believe me, I would answer them instantly if I could. But to enable me to do so, I must first have found out the troublesome conundrum long abandoned. Here it is. Eugene Wrayburn.” Tapping his forehead and breast. “Riddle-me, riddle-me-ree, perhaps you can’t tell me what this may be?⁠—No, upon my life I can’t. I give it up!”