“Yes, Miss.”
“Then where is she?”
“I don’t know, Miss. You might ask him.”
He nodded to a large man in an evening suit.
“Where—where is Miss Diurno?” she asked timidly.
“Miss Diurno did not stay. She left at once.”
“Gone!” Lucile murmured. “And my opportunity gone with it.” Sinking weakly into a chair, she buried her face in her hands.
This lasted but a moment; then she was up and away like the wind. Miss Diurno, the Mystery Woman, Spirit of Christmas, had gone out on the Boulevard. She had promised, through the news columns, to be about the Boulevard until midnight. There was still a chance.
Hurrying back to the now almost deserted hall, she found Laurie and Cordie waiting for her.
“Well now, what does this mean?” Laurie laughingly demanded. “Did you recognize in the hands of some violinist the Stradivarius that was stolen from your grandfather fifty years ago?”