to think of it. Nothing wrong, I hope, Mr.
Duvall."

"I'll know later. Where is Leary now?"

"Couldn't say, sir. You might ask the cab starter?"

Almost before the clerk had finished speaking, Duvall had darted across
the lobby and made his way to the taxicab office at the door.

"Taxi, sir?" the man asked. "Do you know a chauffeur named Martin
Leary?" exclaimed Duvall.

"Yes, sir. One of our regular men, sir."

"Where is he?"

The starter glanced along the row of taxicabs.

"He's turned in for the night, sir. Left for the garage some time ago.
He's been on duty since early this morning."

"Where is the garage?"

"On Lexington Avenue, sir, near 30th Street."

"Does Leary sleep there?"

"No, sir. I don't think so, sir. They would know at the garage, I
guess."

"Very well. Get me a cab. I want to be taken there at once."

The starter called to one of the drivers, and a few moments later Duvall
was being driven at a rapid rate toward the garage.

His inquiries, on his arrival there, developed the fact that Leary had
left for his home, on Second Avenue, some little time before. Duvall
secured the address, and once more set out.

He felt greatly alarmed at Grace's failure to put in an appearance.
Something must have happened to her. Clearly the case was going very
much against him--the woman's second escape--the attack on Ruth
Morton--now the disappearance of Grace. He felt that the time had come
for action of a quick and drastic nature.

Leary lived with his wife and two children on the third floor of a
Second Avenue tenement. Hastily climbing the two flights of dark steps,
Duvall rapped on the door. He was overjoyed when it was opened by a man
whom he judged to be the chauffeur himself.

"Are you Martin Leary?" he asked.

"Yes, sir." The man wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, choking
down a bit of cold supper he had been eating, before turning in.

"I am Richard Duvall. You drove my wife uptown, somewhere, did you not?"

"Yes, sir. To Columbus Avenue and Ninety-sixth Street, sir. Won't you
come in?"

"No. There isn't time. I want you to put on your coat and come along
with me. Mrs. Duvall has not returned, and I am afraid something has
happened to her."

The man turned and called to someone inside the flat.

"Gimme my hat and coat, Kitty," he said, then turned again to Duvall. "I
suppose I should have waited, sir, but after two hours went by, I made
up my mind that Mrs. Duvall didn't