"Perhaps you wonder how I heard of you and why I have come to
you," she went on. "It is because I have a confession to make. I
saw Mr. Haddon just before he was--kidnapped."
She seemed to hesitate over the word.
"How did you know I was interested?" asked Kennedy keenly.
"I heard him mention your name with Mr. Carton's."
"Then he knew that I was more than a reporter for the Star,"
remarked Kennedy. "Kidnapped, you say? How?"
She shot a glance half of suspicion, half of frankness, at us.
"That's what I must confess. Whoever did it must have used me as a
tool. Mr. Haddon and I used to be good friends--I would be yet."
There was evident feeling in her tone which she did not have to
assume. "All I remember yesterday was that, after lunch, I was in
the office of the Mayfair when he came in. On his desk was a
package. I don't know what has become of it. But he gave one look
at it, seemed to turn pale, then caught sight of me. 'Loraine,' he
whispered, 'we used to be good friends. Forgive me for turning you
down.
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