"Has he no friends?"
"Do I count as nothing at all?"
"I mean no others—no wife or family?"
"He has a wife, and she has a daughter. That is all I know. They have been parted through some cause. Why do you ask? Do you know him?"
"No, I do not know him."
Do you know the wife? Please tell me, for at his request I am trying to find her, and I have failed."
"Yes, I know her," she said painfully and slowly. "You need search no longer. She will be at your hotel to-night."
He started. Then he said: "I'm glad of that. How did you come to know? Are you friends?"
Though her face was turned from him resolutely, he saw a flush creep up her neck to her hair.
"We are not friends," she said vaguely. "But I know that she is coming to see her daughter."