Mrs. Morton made a frantic effort to learn the number of the station from which she had been called, but without success. In a rather depressed state of mind, she made her way to the train.
It was half past eight at night when she arrived in Washington, and she at once called up Richard Duvall on the telephone.
To her disappointment, she learned that he was out, and was not expected back until late. There was nothing to do but wait until morning. She retired to her room, full of hope that the following day would bring an end to her fears.
Immediately after breakfast she called again, and this time was more successful. Duvall himself answered the telephone.
"I am Mrs. Morton, from New York," she said, eagerly. "I would like to come out and see you."
"What do you wish to see me about?" the detective inquired.
"It is a personal matter. I will explain when I arrive. I prefer not to do so over the telephone. I have a letter to you from Mr. Stapleton."
"Mr. John Stapleton, the banker?"
"Yes."
"Come, then, by all means, at any hour that suits you. Mr. Stapleton is one of my best friends."