on?" he called.

"Yes," came the girl's voice from the opposite side. "All right, thank
you."

CHAPTER IX

Grace Duvall said good-by to her husband that morning with very little
enthusiasm. She was not jealous of him, she was too sensible a woman,
and trusted him too fully for that. But his sudden interest in Ruth
Morton, the charming motion picture star, seemed rather incomprehensible
to her. Of course she suspected he was working on a case which concerned
the girl although Duvall had neither affirmed nor denied it. But she
felt lonely, and perhaps a trifle out of sorts, and found her solitary
breakfasts, luncheons, dinners, a little trying. So often before, she
and Richard had worked together. Why, she wondered, did he so pointedly
exclude her from this case? She would have liked to talk it over with
him.

She sat rather disconsolately in her room most of the forenoon, and
about one o'clock made ready for a lonely luncheon. She was just about
to leave the apartment when the telephone bell rang. Grace hastened to
it at once, hoping that the call might be from her husband. A woman's
voice, low, firm, determined sounded in her ears.

"I want to speak with Mr. Duvall," the voice said.

"Mr. Duvall is out. This is Mrs. Duvall."

"Very well, Mrs. Duvall. If you want to keep your husband from very
serious harm, you had better tell him to steer clear of Ruth Morton's
affairs in future. A word to the wise, you know. Good day." The speaker
suddenly rang off.

Grace turned from the telephone, her brain in a whirl. What danger
threatened her husband? Ought she not to tell him of the message as soon
as possible, so that he might be on his guard? And what did this
mysterious reference to "Ruth Morton's affairs" mean. Did it imply that
Richard was in any way involved--but that was preposterous. She put the
thought from her mind, and went down in the elevator to a lonely and not
very enjoyable meal.

As she left the dining-room, and passed through the lobby, she thought
she saw ahead of her a familiar figure. A moment later she realized that
it was Richard himself, walking very rapidly toward the main entrance,
his satchel in his hand. Was he leaving the hotel? And if so, ought she
not to make an attempt to give him the message she had just received,
before he did so? She walked quickly after him, but his pace was so
rapid that she reached the sidewalk only in time to see him swing
himself into a waiting taxi, bag