Duvall made his way back to the sidewalk, thoroughly satisfied with the results of his visit. The Ford woman, in the first place, had lied. The other woman had been with her, beyond a doubt. Duvall thought of her picture on the wall of Miss Ford's room. The latter's reason for lying was equally clear. She and the woman with her were guilty.
In the second place, Miss Ford now realized fully that she was under direct suspicion. If, this being the case, she failed to take some step that would be fatal to both her confederate and herself, Duvall felt that he would be very much surprised. He made up his mind to keep close watch upon the house.
Suddenly it occurred to him that Grace might be of immense service to him at this juncture. She could follow the Ford girl, unknown, unrecognized, while he himself could not. He decided to call her up at once, and ask her to join him.
At the corner, the lights of a saloon glowed brilliantly. With a final glance at the dark doorway of No. 162, he walked quickly down the street He felt that, if he hurried, he need not be away from his post more than a few moments.
The call to his hotel developed the fact that Grace was not in. There was a lady asking for him, however, the clerk said, an elderly woman, who gave her name as Mrs. Morton. She had just come in, and seemed greatly agitated at not having found him.
The name, Mrs. Morton, filled Duvall with sudden apprehension.
"I'll speak to her, please," he said. A moment later, he recognized the voice of Mrs. Morton over the 'phone.
"Is this Mr. Duvall?"
"Yes."
"This is Mrs. Morton. Your wife came to me, a little while ago, and said that you wanted to see me at your hotel at once. She explained that it was of the utmost importance. Why are you not here?"