“If I make it possible for him to have just what he wants,” she whispered slowly, “perhaps he will go away and no one will know, no one but Florence and Miss LeMar and Tom Tobin, who will never tell.”
Here indeed was temptation. She did not know that these treasures had been intended as a gift to a children’s hospital, for the little ones of China. Florence had not told her. She only knew that at present they were her own, that she and Florence had bought them and had received a bill of sale for them.
Startling as was this revelation, it did not occupy her thoughts long. Her mind took a fresh turn.
“Florence,” she whispered. “Where is she? The hour is late.”
Once again her head was in a whirl. Where could Florence be?
“Perhaps she is in there! They may have found her. She may have been murd—”
She could not say the word. Her love for her big companion was all but compelling her to re-enter that room.
“He may still be there, that little yellow one with the long ears.” She was fairly beside herself.
Should she call the house detective? This she feared to do. In the excitement of the moment she might give away the secret of her dual personality.
“No! No! I must not! I must be brave!”