"You weren't, I'll admit, nor in motion pictures either, until recently, but perhaps you have changed. I could understand any man being fascinated by a girl like Ruth Morton." Duvall did not pursue the question. It was a hard and fast rule between them not to discuss his professional work. And Mrs. Morton had made it a point that he should confide in no one, not even his wife. "Well," he said, picking up an evening paper, "I'm not fascinated yet. No letters for me to-day, I suppose." "None." Grace went on with her sewing. They sat for a while in silence. Presently there came a knock on the door, and a boy appeared, bearing a telegram, Duvall opened it carelessly, thinking it some word from the overseer of his farm. He sat up with sudden astonishment as he read the contents of the message. "Keep out," the telegram read, "or you will find that we can strike back." Duvall placed the telegram in his pocket with a frown. So it appeared that in spite of all his care, his connection with the case was known. How this was possible he could not imagine. His first visit to the Morton apartment that day had been in the guise of a workman. His subsequent appearance at the studio, and later, at the apartment, had been in the character of a newspaper man. There was only one explanation. Someone had watched him while he was making his examination of Ruth Morton's room, and, subsequently, had followed him from the apartment to his hotel. He began to realize that he was dealing with a shrewd brain, and one that acted with almost uncanny quickness and precision. He determined that, if Mrs. Morton and her daughter changed their place of residence the following day, he would do the same. He said nothing of his intentions to Grace, however. It was more than ever necessary that he preserve secrecy in this case. "No bad news, I hope, Richard," Grace remarked, glancing up from her sewing. "No. Nothing serious. Have you heard anything from home?" "Yes. Everything is going along quite smoothly. The boy is well and happy, and Mrs. Preston says to stay as long as we want to." "Well," said Duvall, rising and throwing down his newspaper, "if things don't go better than they have been going to-day, I may have to be here some time. I've got a queer case on, Grace. I'd like to tell you about it, but I can't. But it is quite unusual. Some features to it that I have never met before." "Oh--I wish I might help you," Grace exclaimed. "You know how often I have done so in the past." "I know, dear. But I am bound to secrecy, for the present at least. Suppose we turn in now. I've got to get up early." "All right," Grace said. "But if you need my help, don't hesitate to ask me. To tell you the truth, I'm having an awfully slow time." CHAPTER VIII