problem for you to
manage. He should have been placed in the hands of a physician."

"No," she interrupted. "No one must know of this. I trust you to tell
no one of this."

He thought a moment.

"Very well. But in order to locate him now, it will be necessary to
call in the help of the police."

"The police!" she exclaimed in horror. "No! You must promise me you
will not do that."

She rose to her feet all excitement.

"They would not arrest him," he assured her. "They would simply hold
him until we came for him."

"I would rather not. I would rather wait until he comes back himself
than do that."

He could not understand her fear, but he was bound to respect it.

"Very well," he answered quietly. "But I have a friend whom I can
trust. You do not mind if I enlist his help?"

"He is of the police?" she asked suspiciously.

"He is a friend," he replied. "It is as a friend he will do this for
me."

"Oh," she answered confused, "I don't know what to do! But I feel that
I can trust you--I _will_ trust you."

"Thank you. Then I must begin work at once. There is a telephone in
the house?"

Her face brightened instantly. He seemed so decisive and sure. The
fact that he was so immediately active, that he did not wait until
daylight, when conditions would be best, but began the search in the
face of apparent impossibility, brought her immediate confidence. She
liked a man who would, without quoting the old saw, hunt for a needle
in a haystack.

She directed him to the telephone, and he summoned a cab. He returned
with the question,

"Do you know how much money he had?"

"Money? He had none."

"Then," said Donaldson, "won't he come back of himself? Opium is one
thing for which there is no credit."

"I 'm afraid not. He has been away before without money, and--"

She stopped as abruptly as though a hand had been placed over her
mouth. Her face clouded as though from some new and half forgotten
fear. She glanced swiftly at Donaldson, as though to see if he had
read the ellipsis.

When she spoke again it was slowly, each word with an effort.

"My pocket-book was upstairs. It is possible that he borrowed."

Donaldson knew the meaning of that. Kleptomania was a characteristic
symptom. Victims of this habit had gone even further in their hot
necessity for money.

"Perhaps," she suggested hesitatingly, "perhaps this search to-night
may inconvenience you financially. I wish you