“Why am I here? Surely you will tell me that? What have I done to deserve this fate?”
“Wait and see. You want some sleep, don’t you?”
“In this terrible house? No!”
“But you must take a little rest. Come.”
Nora gripped Margie’s wrist and led her from the room. She escorted her upstairs and into a smaller apartment on the floor, where she pointed toward a bed.
“Not a particle of sleep till you tell me why I am treated thus,” cried the distracted girl.
“Then you’ll remain a long while awake,” was the quick answer. “I’ll tell you nothing.”
Margie grew desperate. She darted forward and clutched the woman’s sleeve and looking into her face saw it grow white.
“Tell me!” cried Margie. “I am the victim of some awful plot. Is it because I am the detective’s friend?”
“The detective?” echoed Nora. “What detective?”