"London is a large
town."
"She has photographs of him and she knows where he spends his time,"
pleaded the doctor. "He is a company promoter. It should be easy for
you."
"Maybe he doesn't want her to find him," said Ford. "Then it wouldn't be
so easy for me."
The old doctor sighed heavily. "I know," he murmured. "I thought of
that, too. And she is so very pretty."
"That was another thing I noticed," said Ford.
The doctor gave no heed.
"She must stop worrying," he exclaimed, "or she will have a mental
collapse. I have tried sedatives, but they don't touch her. I want to
give her courage. She is frightened. She's left a baby boy at home, and
she's fearful that something will happen to him, and she's frightened at
being at sea, frightened at being alone in London; it's pitiful." The
old man shook his head. "Pitiful! Will you talk to her now?" he asked.
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Ford. "She doesn't want to tell the story of her
life to strange young men."
"But it was she suggested it," cried the doctor. "She asked me if you
were Austin Ford, the great detective."
Ford snorted scornfully. "She did not!" he protested.
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