The craving for chandu seized her sometimes and refused to be exorcised by morphia, laudanum, or any other form of opium; but she had not dared to spend a night at the “House of a Hundred Raptures” since her marriage.  Her new German friend volunteered to supply the necessary gum, outfit, and to provide an apartment where she might safely indulge in smoking.  She declined—­at first.  But finally, on Mollie Gretna’s return from France, where she had been acting as a nurse, Rita and Mollie accepted the suave alien’s invitation to spend an evening in his private opium divan.

Many thousands of careers were wrecked by the war, and to the war and the consequent absence of her husband Rita undoubtedly owed her relapse into opium-smoking.  That she would have continued secretly to employ cocaine, veronal, and possibly morphine was probable enough; but the constant society of Monte Irvin must have made it extremely difficult for her to indulge the craving for chandu.  She began to regret the gaiety of her old life.  Loneliness and monotony plunged her into a state of suicidal depression, and she grasped eagerly at every promise of excitement.

It was at about this time that she met Margaret Halley, and between the two, so contrary in disposition, a close friendship arose.  The girl doctor ere long discovered Rita’s secret, of course, and the discovery was hastened by an event which occurred shortly after they had become acquainted.

The suave alien gentleman disappeared.

That was the entire story in five words—­or all of the story that Rita ever learned.  His apartments were labelled “To Let,” and the night clubs knew him no more.  Rita for a time was deprived of drugs, and the nervous collapse which resulted revealed to Margaret Halley’s trained perceptions the truth respecting her friend.

Kazmah’s terms proved to be more outrageous than ever, but Rita found herself again compelled to resort to the Egyptian.  She went personally to the rooms in old Bond Street and arranged with Rashid to see Kazmah on the following day, Friday, for Kazmah only received visitors by appointment.  As it chanced, Sir Lucien Pyne returned to England on Thursday night and called upon Rita at Prince’s Gate.  She welcomed him as a friend in need, unfolding the pitiful story, to the truth of which her nervous condition bore eloquent testimony.

Sir Lucien began to pace up and down the charming little room in which Rita had received him.  She watched him, haggard-eyed.  Presently: 

“Leave Kazmah to me,” he said.  “If you visit him he will merely shield himself behind the mystical business, or assure you that he is making no profit on his sales.  Kilfane had similar trouble with him.”

“Then you will see him?” asked Rita.

“I will make a point of interviewing him in the morning.  Meanwhile, if you will send Nina around to Albemarle Street in about an hour I will see what can be done.”