They held the door while they told me there had been telephoning back and forth. And someone had already gone to Alton Street. "Is that where Betty is?" No. Alton Street was the nearest police-station. The person who had been sent there had not yet come back. Then I, too, must go to Alton Street to learn what they were doing. The power of the police still loomed immense. At Alton Street I would hear they had already found Betty. She might even be there at this moment.... * * * * * My aunt, the Healer and I driving through deserted streets. How long was it since I had been away from Bettina? "Oh, not long," they said. And the police beyond a doubt had turned the time to good account. I had a vision of the Betty I should find at Alton Street. Fainting, ministered to by men, reverent of her youth and terror.... * * * * * A grimy room with a counter running down its length. No sign of Betty; only men in uniform grouped in twos and threes behind the counter. They listened. Yes, my aunt's messenger "had been in." They shook their heads. The Healer did most of the talking. A man with a sallow face put a question now and then. He was the inspector. Although there were only policemen there besides ourselves, the inspector talked quite low, as though he was afraid someone might come to know a girl was lost. "I can't hear what you are saying!" I said. "She is _my_ sister. You must tell me what you are doing to find her." They had so little to go upon. "The only clue, and that a very slight one," was the cabman. Could I remember what he was like? The strangeness of the question! Taxi-drivers were as much alike to country eyes as the cabs they drove---- But why ask me? "Bring the man in, and let the inspector see him." Then they told me. The man who was waiting there outside was not the one who had taken me to Lowndes Square. But where _was_ our "slight and only clue"? They said that while they all were busied over me, unconscious, the butler had paid the cabman and let him go. He had never thought to take the number. The slight, the only clue, was lost. But no. The inspector said they would circulate an inquiry for a cabman who had brought a young lady of my description to Lowndes Square that night. I tried to learn how long this would take--what we could do meanwhile. What had been already done. They seemed to be saying things which had no meaning. Except one thing. The great difficulty was that I could not describe the outside of the house, nor even the general locality. Which way had we driven from Victoria? I had no idea. But surely I had looked about. What had I noticed as we drove away from the station? I do not know whether at another time I might have answered better, but I could remember only a confused crowd of passengers, porters, taxi-cabs, and motors. Yes, and the woman who had looked after us while she asked her way of a policeman.