Neither of the women paid any attention to her, but directing the cabman to wait, passed quickly into the house.
Grace went back to her cab and got in.
"The woman I am looking for has just driven up in that cab," she said. "She has gone into the house. The cab is to wait. When she comes out again, follow her." Leary nodded, and the two of them settled down for what they supposed would be a long wait. To their surprise, scarcely ten minutes had passed before the door of No. 162 was suddenly opened, and the woman whom Grace had recognized dashed down the steps and sprang into the waiting cab. At almost the same moment Grace saw her husband start forward from the direction of the apartment building, as though in pursuit of her.
There was no time, however, to wait for him. The cab ahead had already started off, and Leary, true to his instructions, was speeding after it. In a moment both vehicles had turned into Seventh Avenue and were driving rapidly uptown.
As minute after minute sped by, Grace began to realize that the chase might prove a long one. They had already crossed to Central Park West, and were now speeding northward again in the neighborhood of 72nd Street. Then, to Grace's surprise, the cab ahead swerved into a side street, and drew up before the entrance of the hotel at which Ruth Morton and her mother were stopping. The cab had no sooner stopped than the woman sprang out and entered the lobby.
Grace followed her without a moment's hesitation, ordering Leary to wait. The woman hurried up to the desk and, taking a blank card from it, scribbled a few words upon it in pencil, and handed it to the clerk. Grace was unable to hear what she said to him, but the man nodded, and handed the card to a bellboy. The woman sat down in a nearby chair.
Grace, having nothing else to do, and being somewhat afraid that the woman might recognize her, crossed at once to the opposite side of the lobby and, going to the news stand, spent some time in selecting and purchasing a magazine. She stood with her back to the woman, screened by a large palm, but at the same time managed to keep a fairly close watch upon her.
It was several minutes before anything happened. Then an elderly lady emerged from one of the elevators, and under the guidance of a bellboy approached the woman Grace had been following. Grace did not remember having ever seen the older woman before, but she had a distinct impression that it might be Mrs. Morton. She strolled over to the desk, and addressed the clerk in a low voice.
"Is that Mrs. Morton—the elderly lady in black?" she asked. The clerk stared at her, but his reserve melted before her charming smile.
"No, Miss," he said. "That is Mrs. Bradley."