Mr. Baker referred to his book.
"Miss Green is a telephone operator. Her address is given here as 310 Gold Street, Brooklyn. Miss Ford is a film cutter, and lives at 122 West 9th Street, New York."
"Neither sounds particularly promising," Duvall remarked, with a frown.
"No. But of course we are assuming that the woman in question works in the studio. If she does not, our whole fabric falls to pieces." Duvall took the torn piece of card from his pocket and glanced at it.
"The address given here begins with the number 1," he said, significantly. "It may be that Miss Marcia Ford, of 122 West Ninth Street, is the woman we are looking for, although I confess I should have suspected some rival motion picture star, rather than a film cutter."
"By George, I forgot the fact that the card had an address on it," Baker exclaimed. "I think we had better look up Miss Ford at once."
"I agree with you," Duvall said. A few moments later they were driving at top speed back toward New York.
It was five minutes to twelve when they reached the corner of Fifth Avenue and Ninth Street and turned west. Duvall realized that they were following a very slim clue, but it seemed for the moment the only promising one they had.
The house, No. 122, proved to be a typical high stooped, brownstone boarding house of this section of the city. It was for the most part dark, although one or two of the upper windows showed lights.
Accompanied by Baker, Duvall quickly mounted the steps and rang the bell. At first there was no answer, although they could hear the sound of the bell tinkling mournfully inside. A second summons brought no greater response. At the third, a woman's head appeared in one of the upper windows, and they heard a shrill and not over pleasant voice asking them what they wanted.