"Here?" Mrs. Morton started, and glanced about in alarm.
"Yes."
"What was it?"
"A photograph." Duvall explained the contents of the mysterious package, but did not show the hideous picture to the girl's mother.
"And you haven't found out anything yet?"
"Nothing definite. There has scarcely been time. But we will. You may be sure of that."
"Have you seen Ruth?" Mrs. Morton asked.
"Yes. Mr. Baker introduced me to her. She thinks I am a newspaper man, who wants to write a special article about her for one of the Sunday papers. She suggested that I call at your house some evening, or possibly Sunday. If you are going back to town soon, I think it might be a good idea for me to drive back with you."
"By all means. I shall feel much safer. Suppose you wait for us at the entrance. I shall not be long."
Duvall nodded, and strolled toward the street, his mind busy with the events of the day. He stood for quite a while near the door, watching the people who came in and out. Many of them were women. He wondered if among them was the woman who was responsible for the threats of the past three days. It seemed improbable, and yet, there were indications that it was within the studio, rather than outside it, that the guilty person was to be found.