“God knows in whose hands she is. Then there is poor Mr. Irvin. He is utterly prostrated. One shudders to contemplate his torture as the hours and the days go by and no news comes of Rita.”
“Oh, my dear! you are making me cry!” exclaimed Mollie. “If only I could do something to help....”
Margaret was studying her closely, and now for the first time she detected sincere emotion in Mollie’s voice—and unforced tears in her eyes. Hope was reborn.
“Perhaps you can,” she continued, speaking gently. “You knew all Rita’s friends and all Sir Lucien’s. You must have met the woman called Mrs. Sin?”
“Mrs. Sin,” whispered Mollie, staring in a frightened way so that the pupils of her eyes slowly enlarged. “What about Mrs. Sin?”
“Well, you see, they seem to think that through Mrs. Sin they will be able to trace Kazmah; and wherever Kazmah is one would expect to find poor Rita.”
Mollie lowered her head for a moment, then glanced quickly at the speaker, and quickly away again.
“Please let me explain just what I mean,” continued Margaret. “It seems to be impossible to find anybody in London who will admit having known Mrs. Sin or Kazmah. They are all afraid of being involved in the case, of course. Now, if you can help, don’t hesitate for that reason. A special commission has been appointed by Lord Wrexborough to deal with the case, and their agent is working quite independently of the police. Anything which you care to tell him will be treated as strictly confidential; but think what it may mean to Rita.”
Mollie clasped her hands about her right knee and rocked to and fro in her chair.
“No one knows who Kazmah is,” she said.