"Yes. I will give you a letter which will insure you an interview, and, I hope, enlist his services in your behalf." He pressed a button on his desk, summoning a stenographer. "I sincerely hope that you will be successful."
Mrs. Morton sat in silence while the letter of introduction to Richard Duvall was being written. Then she rose to go.
"I will leave for Washington this afternoon," she announced. "I feel that there is no time to waste."
"You are quite right. And be sure to tell Mr. Duvall that you are a close personal friend of mine, and that anything he can do for you I shall appreciate to the utmost."
Mrs. Morton went back to the apartment, and made her preparations to start. She determined to take a train leaving at half past three, and as Ruth would not return from the studio until later, she called her up on the telephone, and told her of her sudden determination.
"It is a matter of business, dear," she explained. "I will be back to-morrow. Good-by." The girl's cheerful voice reassured her. At least nothing had happened up to now, to give cause for alarm.
It was only when Mrs. Morton was about to leave for the train that her nerves were once more subjected to a severe shock.
The telephone bell rang, and she went to answer it, thinking that Ruth might for some reason have called her up.
Over the wire came a thin, queer voice.
"Beauty is only skin deep," it said. "A breath may destroy it." After that, silence.