at all, at least for the present, but may be depending solely upon the
terrible and insidious power of suggestion. You must bear this
possibility in mind, and try to control your fears. I can readily
believe that thirty days of this sort of persecution, and you would be a
physical and mental wreck. But we shall stop it. You need have no fears
on that score." Mrs. Morton turned to her daughter with a few words of
explanation.

"Mr. Richards, or rather, Mr. Duvall, is not a newspaper man, Ruth, but
a detective, who is trying to bring the wretches who are annoying you to
justice. I feel every confidence in him."

Ruth turned toward Duvall a very white and pathetic face.

"I hope you will succeed, Mr. Duvall," she said, in a weak voice. "I
cannot stand much more."

"I shall, Miss Morton. And now," he turned to Mr. Baker, "I think we had
better go, and let Miss Morton get some rest. I will come here in the
morning, Mrs. Morton," he continued, addressing the girl's mother, "and
we will consider further the question of your moving to a hotel.
Meanwhile I do not think you have anything further to fear this evening.
Good night."

Before leaving the apartment he made another examination of the marks
upon the bedclothes, then closed and fastened both windows, and locked
the door of the room.

Mr. Baker left him at the corner.

"You will come to the studio to-morrow, of course."

"By all means. I shall come down with Miss Morton and her mother. That
will give us an opportunity to investigate further the matter of the
missing photograph, and also to talk over that plan I had in mind
concerning the new film you are to show at the Grand to-morrow night. It
is barely possible that, by means of a plan I have in mind, we may be
able to locate the person or persons responsible for all this trouble."

"I certainly hope so," said Baker, as he took his leave. "This thing is
getting on _my_ nerves, too."

Duvall made his way back to his hotel, as much mystified as ever. He had
thought for a moment of spending the night on the sidewalk in front of
the Mortons' apartment, watching the windows facing on the court, but
his experience told him that it would be useless. The alarm which Ruth
had made, the closing of the windows of her bedroom, the locking of the
door, all made it highly improbable that any further attempt would be
made to annoy her during the night. He walked along in a state of
intense preoccupation, trying to discove