w she was following me, and
when she saw me go up in the elevator, at the hotel, I expected her to
come, too. I was afraid they might prevent me from coming down, while
they were coming up, so I walked down. I watched, from the stairs, and
saw her and the clerk get out of the elevator on the floor where that
girl's apartment was. Then I came down the stairs and went out the side
entrance. I knew she was upstairs, when I left, and I don't see how she
traced me."

"Perhaps she had her taxi driver do it."

"That's just about it. And if he did, like as not he's waiting for her
yet."

The other woman laughed.

"Nice wait he'll have," she said.

"That's all very well, but won't he see us going out?"

"Suppose he does. Anyway, it's dark, and we'll wear veils. And we won't
go out together. But I don't think he'll wait so long."

"If he doesn't, he'll go back to the hotel and report, and then the
woman's husband will be up here in no time. I think we'd better get out
now. You'll have to leave the trunk. There's nothing much in it."

Again there was a long silence. Then Grace heard the door open, and the
two women came into the room, carrying their suitcases. She closed her
eyes and pretended to be still unconscious. One of the women paused
beside her.

"If they don't find out where she is," she whispered to her companion,
"she's likely to stay here and starve to death."

"I shouldn't be sorry," the other snarled. "But if you feel badly about
it, it's easy enough to telephone to-morrow and tell the janitor to let
her out. No chance of a cab, I guess."

"No. Not at this hour. We'll take the car down to Forty-second Street,
and cross over. Are you ready?"

"Yes. I'd better put out the light, though."

"All right." The first woman moved to the door, while the second
returned to the bedroom and snapped off the light. A moment later Grace
saw her ghostly figure pass the couch, and then the snapping of the door
catch told her that she was alone.

The thought was anything but a pleasant one. If Richard did not happen
to remember Leary--she knew she had mentioned him in connection with the
address on the torn card he had given her--it was by no means impossible
that she might lie where she was, helpless, for days. And in that event,
starvation, or what was worse, thirst, might very readily serve to
fulfill the woman's predictions. She shivered at the thought of spending
hours, days, in this place alone.

But was she a