"I'm afraid so."
"Nobody else?"
I hesitated.
"Little Jimmie is missing. We are afraid——"
Tears filled her eyes and brimmed over.
"Poor Jimmie!"
I'll not swear that the back of my eyes did not scorch with hot tears too. I thought of the likable little Arab, red-headed, freckled and homely, and I blamed myself bitterly that I had ever let him rejoin us at Los Angeles.
"He wouldn't have come if it hadn't been for me. I asked you to let him," the young woman reproached herself.
"It isn't your fault. You meant it for the best."
Of a sudden she turned half from me and leaned against the door-jamb, covering her face with her hands. She was sobbing very softly.