Before he could free himself and spring up she was gone. She had murmured to Jenkins: "Some other time," and fled.
As she ran out blindly, and was springing into the cab, Janoc, in pursuit of her, drove up. In an instant he was looking in through the door of the cab.
"Miss Marsh?" he inquired.
"Yes."
His hands met, wringing in distress.
"You are the lady I am searching for, the mistress of the young girl Pauline Dessaulx, is it not? I am her brother. You see—you can see—the resemblance in our faces. She threatens this instant to commit the suicide——"
Rosalind was forced to forget her own sufferings in this new terror.
"Pauline!" she cried, "I am not her employer. Moreover, she is ill—in bed——"
"She has escaped to my lodging during your absence from home! Something dreadful has happened to her—she speaks of the loss of some weapon—one cannot understand her ravings! And unless she sees you—her hands cannot be kept from destroying herself—Oh, lady! lady! Come to my sweet sister——"
Rosalind looked at him with the scared eyes of one who hears, yet not understands. There was a mad probability in all this, since Pauline might have discovered the loss of the daggers; and, in her present anguish of spirit, the thought that the man's story might only be a device to lure her into some trap never entered Rosalind's head. Indeed, in her weariness of everything, she regarded the mission of succor as a relief.