"The address given here begins with the number 1," he said, significantly. "It may be that Miss Marcia Ford, of 122 West Ninth Street, is the woman we are looking for, although I confess I should have suspected some rival motion picture star, rather than a film cutter." "By George, I forgot the fact that the card had an address on it," Baker exclaimed. "I think we had better look up Miss Ford at once." "I agree with you," Duvall said. A few moments later they were driving at top speed back toward New York. It was five minutes to twelve when they reached the corner of Fifth Avenue and Ninth Street and turned west. Duvall realized that they were following a very slim clue, but it seemed for the moment the only promising one they had. The house, No. 122, proved to be a typical high stooped, brownstone boarding house of this section of the city. It was for the most part dark, although one or two of the upper windows showed lights. Accompanied by Baker, Duvall quickly mounted the steps and rang the bell. At first there was no answer, although they could hear the sound of the bell tinkling mournfully inside. A second summons brought no greater response. At the third, a woman's head appeared in one of the upper windows, and they heard a shrill and not over pleasant voice asking them what they wanted. "I have an important message for Miss Marcia Ford," Duvall replied pleasantly. "I must see her at once." "Miss Ford moved away from here three months ago," the woman snapped. "Will you please give me her present address?" the detective exclaimed, somewhat taken aback. "I don't know it. She didn't say where she was going. Good night!" A moment later the window above them was closed with a slam. The two men stood staring at each other in the utmost disappointment. They had expected a more favorable outcome of their expedition. "How long has she been with you?" Duvall asked, turning to his companion. "I don't know. Certainly over three months, or we shouldn't have this address on our books. I suppose, when she changed it, she omitted to notify us. What are we going to do now?" "There isn't anything we can do, until morning. If Miss Marcia Ford reports for work to-morrow, and you see that she is the woman who fainted in the theater to-night, have her arrested at once. If she doesn't report for work, at least we shall know that she is the woman we are after." "That isn't much consolation," Mr. Baker grumbled. "I don't agree with you. Having the woman's name, knowing her appearance, we are certain to catch her, sooner or later. And in the meanwhile, I do not think that she will attempt anything further so far as Miss Morton is concerned. We are too close on her trail, for that." "I hope you are right," said the motion picture man. "Well, I guess I'll go along home. I'll be at the studio first thing in the morning, however, and I suppose you will be there too."