"That is true, but you will no doubt have on your books her home address. If we hurry, we can get there and back by midnight, and we may be able to place our hands on the woman before she can have time to escape." Mr. Baker reached the door in two steps. "Come along," he said. "We'll burn up the roads." The two men said little, during their long ride. When they reached the entrance to the dark and silent studio building, only the night watchman appeared to greet them. Inside the building, however, there were more signs of life. Some stage carpenters were busy, working overtime on a piece of scenery. In the developing and drying departments were also signs of activity. Mr. Baker led the way to his office. "It happens," he said, "that as I am obliged to O. K. the payroll each week, I have a list of our employees in my desk." As he spoke, he took his keys, opened a drawer, and drew out a small red book. "Here is the list, with the home addresses," he said. "How shall we go to work?" "Read me all the women's names, in which the first name begins with 'Mar,'" Duvall said. "I will put them down on a sheet of paper." He drew a pad toward him, took out his pencil, and the two set to work. When they had at last reached the end of the book, both Duvall and Mr. Baker were surprised to find that the names they had picked out were so few. In all there were but eight, as follows: Miss Mary Sollenberger, Miss Mary Green, Miss Margaret Schwartz, Miss Maria Rosenheim, Miss Martha Simmons, Miss Marcia Ford, Miss Marian Greenberg, Miss Mary King. Duvall ran his pencil down the list of names. "There is but one that fulfills the requirements," he announced. "The sixth name, that of Miss Marcia Ford, contains in all fourteen letters. None of the others do. Two, those of Miss King and Miss Green, come the nearest. Miss King's full name contains twelve letters, Miss Green's, thirteen. Any one of the three _might_ be the one we seek." "I can answer for Miss King at once," said Mr. Baker, quietly. "She is my stenographer, and most certainly _not_ the woman who was in the theater to-night." "That leaves then, Miss Green and Miss Ford. What do they do, and what are their addresses?" Mr. Baker referred to his book. "Miss Green is a telephone operator. Her address is given here as 310 Gold Street, Brooklyn. Miss Ford is a film cutter, and lives at 122 West 9th Street, New York." "Neither sounds particularly promising," Duvall remarked, with a frown. "No. But of course we are assuming that the woman in question works in the studio. If she does _not_, our whole fabric falls to pieces." Duvall took the torn piece of card from his pocket and glanced at it.