It was a hopeless pursuit, for another machine had already come between them. It was impossible for Burke to see the number of the car, and then it turned around the next corner and was lost in the heavy traffic.
"Oh, what are we to do?" exclaimed Mary in despair.
"Well, we can go to all the theatrical offices, and make inquiries. I have my badge under my coat, and they will answer, all right."
They went to every big office in the whole theatrical district. But there, too, the search was vain. Mary was too nervous and wretched to enjoy the possibility of a dinner, and so Burke took her home. Her father asked for Lorna, to which Mary made some weak excuse which temporarily quieted the old gentleman.
Promising to keep up his search in restaurants and offices, Burke hurried on downtown again. It was useless. Throughout the night he sought, but no trace of the girl had been found. When he finally went up to the Barton home to learn if the young girl had returned, he found the old man frantic with fear and worriment.
"Burke, some ill has befallen the child," he exclaimed. "Mary has finally told me the truth, and my heart is breaking."
"There, sir, you must be patient. We will try our best. I can start an investigation through police channels that will help along."
"But father became so worried that we called up your station. The officer at the other end of the telephone took the name, and said he would send out a notice to all the stations to start a search."
"Great Scott! That means publicity, Miss Mary. The papers will have the story sure, now. There have been so many cases of girls disappearing lately that they are just eager for another to write up."
Mary wrung her hands, and the old man chattered on excitedly.