use is Breton born, he has lived many years in
this country, and in all that time has never met another Duclos."

"And Peters let it go at that?"

"Had to. What else could he do? However, he did make this admission--that
there was a child in the room who betrayed a nervousness under his
questions which was not observable in her elders, a girl of twelve or so
who put her hands behind her when she found she could not control their
twitching. And I've an idea that if he could have got this child by
herself, he might have heard something quite different from the plain
denial he got from the mother. I've always thought so; but I've had too
many other things to do to make an effort in this direction.

"Now, if you approve, I'll see what I can do with this girl, for it
stands to reason there must be some place in town where this woman, just
off ship, found an immediate refuge and a change of clothing and effects.
Nor should I be much surprised if we should discover that she is an
inmate of this very house. What do you think, Mr. Gryce? Is it worth
looking into?"

"It is worth my looking into. I have other work for you. Where does this
Duclos family live?"

Sweetwater told him. It was in one of the Eighties, not a quarter of a
mile from the Hotel Universal.

This settled, Mr. Gryce took from his pocket the mutilated photograph
which had served as a target to the woman in Fifty-third Street.

"You see this," said he. "The face is all gone; only a sweep of the hair
on one side, and a bit of collar and the tip of a shoulder on the other,
remain to act as a clue. Yet I expect you to find the negative from which
this photograph was printed. It should not be so difficult,--that is, if
in the course of time it has not been destroyed,--for look here." And
turning over what remained of the mutilated photograph he displayed the
following:

Cor. 9th Street
w York)

"New York! The portrait was made here and--at Fredericks'. His studio was
on the corner of Ninth Street up to a few years ago. It's a trail after
my own mind. If that negative is in existence, I'll find it, if I have to
ransack half the photograph-studios in town. About how old do you think
this picture is?"

"Old enough to give you trouble. But that you're used to. What we want to
know--what we must know--is this: The name of the man who has incurred
Madame's enmity to such a degree that she spends the small hours of the
night in knocking out his features from