to give you the message. I thought you ought to know."

"I understand that, but I wished my presence here to be unknown to
anyone. You made a serious mistake. I only hope that no harm will come
of it."

"But--how could harm come of it?"

"You drove here in one of the hotel's regular cabs, I suppose?"

"Yes."

"Then the people I am trying to avoid may trace me here, through the
driver of that cab."

"Oh--Richard--I'm so sorry. Isn't there anything I can do?"

"Nothing, now, except to make no further attempt to communicate with me
here. Good-by."

Grace returned to her hotel, very thoroughly dissatisfied with what she
had done. It seemed to her that by trying to warn Richard of possible
danger, she might only have brought it upon him. Apparently he had left
their hotel, to avoid the very persons who had telephoned the warning
message to her. She arrived at the door, got out of the cab in which she
had made the journey, and looked about, hoping that the cabman who had
driven her uptown might now be at his usual stand. To her delight, she
saw that he was.

She went up to the man, a slim, keen looking young Irishman, and engaged
him in conversation.

"Do you remember driving me uptown an hour or so ago?" she asked.

"Sure I do, Miss," answered the man, touching his cap.

"Then please forget completely where you went, will you?" She handed the
man a ten dollar bill. "It is barely possible that someone may try to
find out, through you, where I went. Be sure that you give them no
information."

"They'll get nothing out of me, Miss," the man replied, pocketing the
bill with a pleased grin.

"And if anybody _does_ try to find out, get their name, if you can, and
if not, a description of them."

"I'll do my best, Miss."

"I am stopping here. My name is Duvall, Mrs. Duvall."

"Very good, ma'am. I'll attend to it, ma'am."

Grace went up to her room, satisfied that she had remedied her mistake,
and began to look through an afternoon paper she had bought. There
seemed nothing better to do, during the evening, than to go to the
theater. Glancing down the list of attractions, she suddenly saw the
name of Ruth Morton, in large letters, billed in a new feature play, _An
American Beauty_, opening at the Grand Theater that night. She at once
made up her mind to go. Since yesterday, her interest in Miss Morton had
perceptibly increased. And in spite of all, Richard _had_ held her hand.

She was just finishing her di