he first line were the words, "Miss
Mar"--then came the torn edge of the card. On the second line there was
but the figure 1, and then the break.

Was the name so tantalizingly suggested by the letters before him "Miss
Mary" something or other? Or "Miss Margaret?" Or was it "Miss Martin,"
or "Miss Marvin," or "Miss Marbury," or any one of a score of other
names beginning with the letters "Mar?" And what was the missing
address? What numbers followed the figure 1, on that part of the card
that had been torn off? And what was the name of the street? He realized
at once that while what he had found might, under certain circumstances,
act as a suggestion, it would not serve to get him very far, unless
reinforced by other and more definite evidence. He thought for a moment
of securing from Mr. Baker a list of the women employees of the studio.
It was true, he remembered, that his prisoner had not been seated in
that particular section of the house reserved for the company's
employees, but that might have readily come from the fact that the
section was fully occupied when she arrived. Then, as more names
beginning with "Mar" occurred to him, the futility of the idea became
apparent. Apart from any possible number of Marys, and Margarets there
were Martha, Maria, Marcia, Marian, Marcella--others perhaps. Of course
he would be able to recognize the woman, if he saw her, but she would be
too clever to return to her place in the studio the following day, if by
any chance she worked there, knowing, as she must inevitably know, that
she would be identified at once.

Still, there was of course the chance that Mr. Baker might have
recognized her. He presumably knew all the employees of his company by
sight. Duvall got into the cab with a mortifying sense of having made a
very foolish blunder, and directed the cabman to drive him back to the
Grand Theater.

Mr. Baker was waiting in the lobby when the detective arrived, and at a
nod from the latter the two men retired to the dressing room in which
they had had their previous consultation. The moving picture man's face
was eager, expectant, as he waited for Duvall to speak, and the latter
felt his chagrin increase by the moment.

When he had at last finished his account of the affair, Mr. Baker looked
exceedingly grave.

"Too bad--too bad," he muttered, "to have had her in our hands like
that, and then, to lose her."

"Did you ever see the woman before?" Duvall questioned.

"No