photograph, became intelligible. But the delivery of the
letters in Ruth Morton's apartment, the strange attack upon him while
searching the Ford girl's room, were by no means so clear. Once more his
thoughts reverted to the attic room, the roof of the adjoining house,
the problem of effecting an entrance to the Morton apartment through
either of the two windows.

And then, as he revolved the problem in his mind, a sudden light came to
him. He sprang from his chair with an exclamation of satisfaction. A
solution of the whole matter flashed through his brain, a solution at
once so simple, and so ingenious, that he wondered he had not thought of
it before.

He glanced at his watch. It was midnight. Too late, perhaps, to test the
accuracy of his deductions. Nor did he feel at all easy in his mind
regarding Grace. Something must have happened to her, he feared, to keep
her out so late, with no word to him concerning her movements. He went
to the 'phone, and calling up the office, inquired whether anything had
been heard of Mrs. Duvall.

"No," the night clerk informed him. Mrs. Duvall had not been heard from,
nor had she sent any message. But a note had just been left for her. He
would send it up.

Duvall awaited the arrival of the note with the utmost impatience. A
message for Grace. From whom? What could it mean? A few moments later
one of the bellboys thrust into his hand a letter, written on the note
paper of the hotel.

He regarded the scrawling and ill-written superscription with
apprehension, then tore open the envelope and proceeded to read the
contents of the note.

"Dear Madam," it said. "I waited till nearly midnight. When you did not
come, I thought you must have gone out some other way, so came back to
the hotel. I hope I did right. Respectfully yours, Martin Leary." Duvall
stared at the words before him with a look of alarm. Who was Martin
Leary? And where had he waited for Grace until nearly midnight? And,
above all, why had she not returned? Had some accident, some danger
befallen her? The circumstances made it seem highly probable.

There was but one thing to do--to question the night clerk, and find
out, if possible, who Leary was. He rushed to the elevator and made his
way to the lobby with all speed.

"Who left this note for Mrs. Duvall?" he asked of the clerk.

"Why,"--the man paused for a moment--"one of the cabmen, I believe."

"Is his name Leary--Martin Leary?"

"Yes. It was Leary, come