He is a certain shadowy being, known as Mr. King.”
“The name on the paper!” said Helen, quickly. “But of course the police have been looking for Mr. King all along?”
“In a general way—yes; but as we have thousands of Kings in London alone, the task is a stupendous one. The information which I received this morning narrows down the search immensely; for it points to Mr. King being the chief, or president, of a sort of opium syndicate, and, furthermore, it points to his being a Chinaman.”
“A Chinaman!” cried Denise and Helen together.
“It is not absolutely certain, but it is more than probable. The point is that Mrs. Leroux has not eloped with some unknown lover; she is in one of the opium establishments of Mr. King.”
“Do you mean that she is detained there?” asked Helen.
“It appears to me, now, to be certain that she is. My hypothesis is that she was an habitué of this place, as also was Mrs. Vernon. These unhappy women, by means of elaborate plans, made on their behalf by the syndicate, indulged in periodical opium orgies. It was a game well worth the candle, as the saying goes, from the syndicate’s standpoint; for Mrs. Leroux, alone, has paid no less than a thousand pounds to the opium group!”
“A thousand pounds!” cried Denise Ryland.
