"Oh--a rather insignificant looking girl of about twenty-five. Small, slender, not very prepossessing, but clever--enormously clever. One of the best film cutters we have. I should be sorry to lose her." "Light blue eyes, and light hair," Duvall questioned. "And a thin, rather cruel mouth?" "Exactly. But why? Has she gotten into any trouble?" "No--I hope not. I merely wanted to see her." "Well--of course she may show up later, although as I say she has usually been very punctual. I shouldn't be surprised if she is sick. She's been acting rather peculiarly, the past few days." "How so?" asked Duvall, quickly. "I can't say--exactly. I got the impression from her manner that she was nervous, excited, out of sorts. Merely an impression, but such things count." "Telephone me, Emmett," Mr. Baker said, "if she comes in during the next hour. Come along, Mr. Duvall, you can wait in my office." They returned to the other side of the immense building, and Duvall sat down to wait. He felt sure that they were on the right track, and was impatient to get back to New York and try to locate the missing woman. The description given by Mr. Emmett left little doubt in his mind that she and Miss Marcia Ford were one and the same. He sat in Mr. Baker's office, reading the paper, waiting anxiously for the hour the latter had specified to pass. After what seemed an interminable wait, Mr. Baker glanced at his watch, then rose. "It is ten o'clock, Mr. Duvall," he announced. "Miss Ford has not come, or Mr. Emmett would have notified me. I do not see that there is anything further to be accomplished here." As he spoke, the telephone bell rang sharply. Mr. Baker picked up the receiver, listened intently for a few moments, then slammed the receiver back upon the hook. "Hell!" he ejaculated softly. "What is it?" Duvall asked. "Miss Ford has just reported for work!" PART III CHAPTER XII The announcement, made by Mr. Baker, that Miss Marcia Ford, the film cutter, had reported for work, filled Duvall with astonishment. He had expected nothing of the sort, so convinced was he that the girl in question was the one they were looking for, the one who had been persecuting Ruth Morton, the motion picture star, with her threats. He rose from his seat, in Mr. Baker's office at the studio, and turned toward the door. "If Miss Ford has reported for work," he said, "I had better take a look at her at once. If she is the woman who escaped from the cab, last night, I shall have no difficulty in recognizing her. But I am afraid it is out of the question. Knowing that both you and I had seen her, when she fainted at the theater, she would not dare to put in an appearance here to-day. The thing is utterly incomprehensible.