"Why?" she asked.
"If one half of the stories about Meysey Hill are true," he answered,
"I would not stretch out my little finger to save his life."
"Isn't that a little extreme?"
"I am an extreme person at times. This man has an evil reputation. I
know of scandalous deeds which he has done."
Anna had reached the house where she lodged, but she hesitated on the
doorstep.
"Have you ever seen Annabel with him?" she asked.
"Never."
"It is odd that this man at the hospital should call himself Meysey
Hill," she remarked.
"If you wish," he said, "I will go there in the morning and see what
can be done for him."
"It would be very kind of you," she declared. "I am only sorry that I
did not ask you to go with me."
She rang the bell, and he waited by her side until she was admitted to
the tall, gloomy lodging-house. And ever after it struck him that her
backward smile as she disappeared was charged with some special
significance. The door closed upon her, and he moved reluctantly away.
When next he asked for her, some twelve hours later, he was told that
Mademoiselle had left. His most eager inquiries and most lavish bribes
could gain no further information than that she had left for England,
and that her address was--London.