"But you mustn't open any packages, my child. Be very careful about that. And Robert must not stop the car, under any circumstances, in going to or from the studio. There, at least, I believe you are quite safe. I will have a talk with Mr. Edwards to-day, and explain matters to him. And here you cannot possibly be in any danger. Meanwhile, in spite of what you say, I still beg you not to let this matter prey upon your mind. I cannot, will not, take it seriously." Poor Mrs. Morton, herself thoroughly frightened, strove with all her might to convince Ruth that she had nothing to fear. She knew the girl's intense, high-strung nature, and feared that constant worry, ceaseless anxiety, might readily so work upon her as to reduce her to a nervous wreck long before the expiration of the thirty days named in the first threatening letter. She found herself wishing devoutly that Duvall would appear. As she finished speaking there came a ring at the doorbell, and Nora started to answer it. Mrs. Morton stopped her. "Nora," she said. "Listen to me. You are not, under any circumstances, to admit anyone--no matter who it is--until I have first seen and talked with them. Do you understand?" "Yes, ma'am. I understand," replied the girl, as she went out into the hall. A moment later Mrs. Morton, hearing a man's voice, hurried after her. Nora, with the door but slightly open, was speaking with a rough-looking fellow, a workman, apparently, who stood in the hallway outside. He was a man of thirty-five, with a reddish moustache, wearing working clothes and a cap. This he removed, as Mrs. Morton came to the door. "Is this Mrs. Morton's apartment?" he asked. "Yes. What do you want?" Mrs. Morton's voice and manner were far from encouraging. "There seems to be a leak in the plumbing somewhere on this floor," the man went on. "There's trouble with the ceilings in the apartment below. The superintendent wants me to go over the connections and see that everything is all right." He lifted a canvas bag containing his tools from the floor, and made as though to enter. Mrs. Morton, however, did not open the door any wider. "You can't come in now," she said. "Come back later--in an hour. My daughter is not dressed yet." She seemed ready to close the door entirely, but the man again spoke. "Can't afford to wait, ma'am," he said, with a significant smile. "I got every apartment in this building to go over before the end of the month, and there are _only twenty-seven days left_." He emphasized his concluding words, at the same time looking Mrs. Morton squarely in the eye. The words, the man's look, brought sudden recognition. Mrs. Morton drew open the door. "Very well," she said. "Come in." She realized that the supposed workman was no other than Duvall.