Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. “How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable. " "Say the word, and I'm mum," returned the executioner. The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles. " So saying, he closed the door. There was a pleasant numbness in the bottle; that's why I went to it.
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