"This is Mr. Denby," said Anne Boleyn. "Let him speak for himself."
Now, Mr. Punch was a quick-witted man, and he realised if he delayed an instant in taking up her challenge he would only come off worse in the end. He snatched off his mask.
"Sure I'm Denby," he cried to Harris. "And I was a good friend of yours, Frank. But you can't save yourself from this murder by a tissue of lies!"
The false nose and chin still grotesquely obscured his real features, but they all knew him now. A murmur of amazement went around. Poor Harris gaped at him like a clown. The man's instinct warned him he had been tricked, but his wits were not sharp enough to work it out.
Mr. Punch then turned furiously on my employer. "Who is this woman that's so keen about our private affairs?" he cried. "Take off your
