the way in the run down the
stairs, and aided his companions onto the cross-town car. He paid
their fares, and got the transfers, and stopped the other car. He was
beginning to feel himself again, at least temporarily.

"Well, I think the police-station is the best place to look, but have
your own way. It won't take long to see if she is there now," said
Wollaston. He was hanging on a strap in front of Maria. The car was
crowded with people going to up-town theatres. Some of the ladies, in
showy evening wraps, giving glimpses of delicate waists, looked
curiously at the three. There was something extraordinary about their
appearance calculated to attract attention, although it was difficult
to say just why. After they had left the car, a lady with a white
lace blouse showing between the folds of a red cloak, said to her
escort: "I wonder who they were?"

"I don't know," said the man, who had been watching them. "I thought
there was something unusual."

"I thought so, too. That well-dressed young woman, and that handsome
boy, and that shabby little girl." By the "young woman" she meant
Maria.

"Yes, a queer combination," said the man.

"It wasn't altogether that, but they looked so desperately in
earnest."

Meantime, while the lights of the car disappeared up the avenue,
Maria, Wollaston, and Gladys Mann searched for the house in which had
lived Ida Edgham's cousin.

At last they found it, mounted the steps, and rang the bell. It was
an apartment-house. After a little the door opened of itself.

"My!" said Gladys, but she followed Wollaston and Maria inside.

Wollaston began searching the names above the rows of bells on the
wall of the vestibule.

"What did you say the name was?" he asked of Maria.

"Edison. Mrs. George B. Edison."

"There is no such name here."

"There must be."

"There isn't."

"Let me see," said Maria. She searched the names. "Well, I don't
care," said she. "It was on the third floor, and I am going up and
ask, anyway."

"Now, Maria, do you think--" began Wollaston.

But Maria began climbing the stairs. There was no elevator.

"My!" said Gladys, but she followed Maria.

Wollaston pushed by them both. "See here, you don't know what you are
getting into," said he, sternly. "You let _me_ go first."

When they reached the third floor, Maria pointed to a door. "That is
the door," she whispered, breathlessly.

Wollaston knocked. Immediately the door was flung open by a very
pr