"Well, late yesterday afternoon, a woman, answering the description you give, did apply to the cabman to find out where he had driven me. Naturally he told her nothing. Then, thinking, I suppose, that I might repeat my visit, she gave him five dollars, and told him to let her know in case I drove from here to any other hotel. She figured, no doubt, that being your wife, I was certain to go and see you."
Duvall sat forward in his chair, an eager look upon his face.
"You did splendidly, Grace," he said. "Much better than I have done. But the important point is this. How was the cabman to let her know, and where? Did she give him her name and address?"
"She gave him a name and address. It is about that, that I wanted to see you."
"What was it?"
"Alice Watson. General Delivery. He was to write her a letter."
Duvall sank back in his chair with a disappointed look.
"An assumed name, of course," he said. "I'm afraid it won't be of much service to us."
"But why? I was going to write this woman a letter, giving her the name of some other hotel—any one would do. Then, she would come there to find you, we could have the cabman, Leary, on watch to point her out, and in that way identify her and perhaps follow her to her home." Duvall shook his head.
"It would have worked splendidly, my dear," he said, "except for the fact that in some way the woman has already discovered the name of my hotel. She will not go to the general delivery window at the post office to get it, now, for she already knows it. And if she did, she would realize as soon as she read your letter that you were not telling her the truth. Is that what you have been so busy about?" He glanced at the half-finished letter that lay on his wife's desk.