The latter, however, whose name was Baker, came over to Duvall and addressed him.
"What was it about that photograph that upset Miss Morton so?" he asked. "And what has become of it?"
Duvall drew him to one side.
"Let us go to your office, Mr. Baker," he said. "I have a most important matter to discuss with you."
Baker regarded the detective for a moment in surprise, then, seeing that Duvall was very much in earnest, he led the way to his private office.
"I am not a newspaper writer, Mr. Baker," Duvall said, as soon as they were seated. "As a matter of fact, I am a detective, in the employ of Mrs. Morton, Ruth Morton's mother."
"A detective?" he questioned. "Why has Miss Morton's mother employed a detective?"
"Because someone is persecuting the girl, by sending her threatening letters, saying that her beauty is to be destroyed. This photograph"—he drew the hideous picture from his pocket—"is a sample of their work."
Mr. Baker regarded the photograph for a moment in silence, then rose with a growl of rage and struck his clenched fist upon the desk.
"This is outrageous—damnable!" he cried. "It cannot go on. No wonder the poor girl looked tired out. We will put the matter in the hands of the police. We will spend any amount of money——"