“By Jove!” he muttered. “I believe I have lost my way! I do not remember passing through this quarter of the city.” He walked on slowly. “I’ll meet a policeman pretty soon,” he thought, “and I’ll ask him to direct me.” But the section of the city seemed to grow still worse as he advanced. Almost before he was aware of it, he found himself near the water front. “Well, I’m clean off my trolley!” he muttered, turning back. Pretty soon he came to a street where lights shone from windows here and there, and there were sounds of laughter and music issuing from some of the rather disreputable-looking buildings. Women flitted along the street, sometimes accompanied by men, sometimes alone. One of them, quite alone, stopped Merry, grasped him by the arm, peered into his face, and brokenly asked: “Have you seen her?” By the light that shone from a window, Frank saw that the woman was at least fifty years old and dressed in a fairly respectable manner. She seemed greatly excited, and she was trembling. “Whom do you mean, madam?” asked Frank, respectfully. “My child—my little girl!” answered the woman. “She is here somewhere in this city! I don’t know where! I can’t find her! Oh Heaven! I can’t find her!” “You have lost your daughter?” questioned Frank, with a thrill of sympathy. “Yes, yes! Have you seen her?” “How should I know her if I saw her?” The woman seemed dazed. She put her hand to her head, as if trying to think. Frank could see she was nearly distracted with grief. Her eyes were red from weeping and her care-lined face still wet with tears. “I don’t know! Oh, I don’t know how to find her! The only way is to ask somebody—anybody. I thought I would ask the men whom I met on the street to-night, hoping some of them might be able to tell me something about her.” “I am very sorry, madam, but I’m afraid I can tell you nothing.” A despairing moan issued from the woman’s lips. “I followed her as soon as possible,” she said. “She ran away from home and came here to this city. She has been here before, and the city has ruined her. Her head is filled with false notions! Oh, I fear I shall not find my little girl again!” “Cheer up, madam. Have you applied to the police?” “No, no; not yet! I didn’t want to do that. Daisy is so proud—so spirited! She would be awfully angry if I were to put the police after her.” “Daisy!” exclaimed Frank. “Yes, that is her name.” “Daisy Blaney?” The woman gave a scream and caught hold of him with wonderful strength. “You have seen her? You know her? You can tell me where she is?” “If that is your daughter’s name, I have seen her and had a talk with her.” “Where is she—where is she?” The woman was so excited that she fairly choked over the words. “I don’t know.” “Don’t tell me that!” the distracted mother screamed. “You must know!” “I give you my word of honor that I do not.” “When did you see her?” “Shortly after noon to-day.” “Where?” “Near the Crawford Theater.”