"The message was phoned down by the lady herself," the clerk added, by way of explanation.
Duvall went up in the elevator, and a few moments later, was knocking at the door of Mrs. Morton's suite.
The latter herself appeared in the doorway. She was pale and agitated. "Come in, Mr. Duvall," she said.
The detective entered, closing the door behind him.
"What is wrong, Mrs. Morton?" he asked.
"There has been another warning—a dreadful one," the older woman exclaimed, her voice trembling. "It came a little after ten."
"What was it?" Duvall's voice was almost as strained as that of the woman before him. Her words came to him as a complete surprise. Had all the work of the evening, then, been wasted?
"At a little after ten," Mrs. Morton said slowly, "I sent my maid Nora out for some medicine for my daughter. She went to a drug store some three blocks away. As she returned to the hotel, she saw a young woman standing near the entrance, apparently watching those who went in and out. As soon as the maid came up to the doorway, the woman stepped up to her, and thrusting a package into her hands, said quickly, 'Give this to Miss Ruth Morton. It is from the studio.' Then she walked away at once.
"Nora, as she tells me, did not know just what to do. You will remember that while she realizes from our presence here under an assumed name, that something is wrong, she knows little or nothing of the circumstances surrounding Ruth's terrible persecution. Hence she foolishly took both the medicine and the package the woman had given her, to my daughter."
"Yes—yes—go on," Duvall exclaimed, seeing Mrs. Morton pause.