otel? She must have done so,
without much loss of time, in order to reach there by ten o'clock. How
had she known the address? He knew very well that he had given it to the
cabman, when they started away from the theater. Had the supposedly
fainting woman overheard his words? If she had, and had so promptly
acted upon them, she was far more clever and determined than her
appearance would seem to warrant. He revolved the matter endlessly in
his mind, waiting for Mr. Baker to announce that the time had come, when
Miss Ford's or Miss Green's arrival or non-arrival would indicate which
of the two, if either, was the woman they sought.

Suddenly the bell of the telephone on Mr. Baker's desk ran sharply. He
answered it, then turned to Duvall.

"Miss Green, the telephone operator, is at her desk," he said. "Would
you like to take a look at her?"

"Yes." The detective arose, and followed Mr. Baker into the corridor.
The switchboard of the building was located at the end of the hall, in a
small bare room. When they reached it, Mr. Baker spoke to a dark-haired,
rather stout, woman who sat at the desk.

"Miss Green," he said, "if any calls come in for Mr. Duvall, he will be
in my office." Then he went back along the corridor.

"She certainly isn't the woman we are after," he remarked to Duvall, as
soon as they were out of earshot.

"No. It must be Miss Ford," the detective replied.

"Suppose we go to the developing and finishing department," Baker
suggested. "It is time all our people were on hand. Mr. Emmett, who is
in charge there, can tell us about Miss Ford."

They crossed to the other side of the building, and entered a small
office. A bald-headed man sat at a littered desk.

"Mr. Emmett," Baker said, "shake hands with Mr. Duvall. He is looking
for a young woman in the finishing department. Miss Marcia Ford. Has she
come in yet?"

"No," replied the bald-headed man, gravely shaking hands. "She is not
here this morning. It is rather surprising, too, for she usually is on
time."

"What sort of a looking woman is she?" Duvall inquired.

"Oh--a rather insignificant looking girl of about twenty-five. Small,
slender, not very prepossessing, but clever--enormously clever. One of
the best film cutters we have. I should be sorry to lose her."

"Light blue eyes, and light hair," Duvall questioned. "And a thin,
rather cruel mouth?"

"Exactly. But why? Has she gotten into any trouble?"

"No--I hope not. I merely wanted