“Whose child is missing?” she inquired, in a soft voice.
“The child of Mrs. Edward Dainty, number 400 —— Street; a little girl, eleven years old. She has been absent since yesterday. The woman suspected of the crime of enticing her away was employed, a short time ago, as governess, but dismissed almost immediately, in consequence of certain defects that entirely destroyed her right influence over the children.”
“What were those defects?” inquired the woman, evincing a new interest in the matter.
“She attempted, it was thought, to magnetize the children.”
“Ah!” The woman seemed more interested, and leaned toward Florence, fixing upon her, as she did so, her dark, bright, weird-looking eyes. There was a brief pause.
“Well, what of it?” inquired the woman, seeing that Florence remained silent.
“The consequences were serious, so far as the little girl I refer to was concerned,” said Florence. “She was changed almost from the hour Mrs. Jeckyl drew her within the sphere of her influence.”
“Delicately organized, and easily impressed, no doubt.” The woman spoke half to herself.
“She is a sweet, lovely child,” said Florence, “and it is terrible to think of her pure, almost infantine spirit coming within the sphere of such a woman. Death, in my regard, would be a blessing instead.”
“You speak warmly on the subject,” said the woman.