"To find her husband in London?" repeated Ford. "London is a large town."
"She has photographs of him and she knows where he spends his time," pleaded the doctor. "He is a company promoter. It should be easy for you."
"Maybe he doesn't want her to find him," said Ford. "Then it wouldn't be so easy for me."
The old doctor sighed heavily. "I know," he murmured. "I thought of that, too. And she is so very pretty."
"That was another thing I noticed," said Ford.
The doctor gave no heed.
"She must stop worrying," he exclaimed, "or she will have a mental collapse. I have tried sedatives, but they don't touch her. I want to give her courage. She is frightened. She's left a baby boy at home, and she's fearful that something will happen to him, and she's frightened at being at sea, frightened at being alone in London; it's pitiful." The old man shook his head. "Pitiful! Will you talk to her now?" he asked.
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Ford. "She doesn't want to tell the story of her life to strange young men."
"But it was she suggested it," cried the doctor. "She asked me if you were Austin Ford, the great detective."
Ford snorted scornfully. "She did not!" he protested. His tone was that of a man who hopes to be contradicted.