"Somehow I don't think it's a spree--but as I say, you can't tell. She's
full of impulses. You remember how she frightened us once before, when
she went off and stayed all night with the woman she used to know in the
flat house, when she heard she was sick?"

Hodder nodded.

"You've inquired there?"

"That woman went to the hospital, you know. She may be with another one.
If she is, Gratz ought to find her. . . You know there was a time, Mr.
Hodder, when I didn't have much hope that we'd pull her through. But we
got hold of her through her feelings. She'd do anything for Mr. Bentley
--she'd do anything for you, and the way she stuck to that embroidery was
fine. I don't say she was cured, but whenever she'd feel one of those
fits coming on she'd let us know about it, and we'd watch her. And I
never saw one of that kind change so. Why, she must be almost as good
looking now as she ever was."

"You don't think she has done anything--desperate?" asked Hodder, slowly.

Sally comprehended.

"Well--somehow I don't. She used to say if she ever got drunk again
she'd never come back. But she didn't have any money--she's given Mr.
Bentley every cent of it. And we didn't have any warning. She was as
cheerful as could be yesterday morning, Mrs. McQuillen says."

"It might not do any harm to notify the police," replied Hodder, rising.
"I'll go around to headquarters now."