XXXV
Tracker Tracked
HELEN CUMBERLY and Denise Ryland peered from the window of the former’s room into the dusk of the Square, until their eyes ached with the strain of an exercise so unnatural.
“I tell you,” said Denise with emphasis, “that…sooner or later…he will come prowling…around. The mere fact that he did not appear…last night…counts for nothing. His own crooked…plans no doubt detain him…very often…at night.”
Helen sighed wearily. Denise Ryland’s scheme was extremely distasteful to her, but whenever she thought of the pathetic eyes of Leroux she found new determination. Several times she had essayed to analyze the motives which actuated her; always she feared to pursue such inquiries beyond a certain point. Now that she was beginning to share her friend’s views upon the matter, all social plans sank into insignificance, and she lived only in the hope of again meeting Gianapolis, of tracing out the opium group, and of finding Mrs. Leroux. In what state did she hope and expect to find her? This was a
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