The clerk gave the necessary instructions, and the two then entered one of the elevators and quickly made their way to the seventh floor, upon which Mrs. Morton's apartment was located. There was no one in the corridor when they left the elevator, and the clerk, who knew the location of the suite, hastened to it at once. They reached the door. Grace was conscious of a feeling of apprehension, a sense of impending disaster. Her heart pounded violently as she waited for the answer to the clerk's knocks. She waited in vain. Only silence, grim, terrible, rewarded his efforts. "Something _has_ happened," Grace whispered, as the clerk again rapped upon the door, this time more loudly than before. Again there was no reply, no evidence of the presence of anyone in the girl's rooms. "Open the door!" Grace cried. "Something terrible must have occurred!" The clerk took the pass key with which he had provided himself, and inserted it in the lock. A moment later the door swung open, and the two of them entered the room. It was in total darkness. Grace clutched at her heart, fearing what she believed the switching on of the lights would reveal. The clerk, without loss of time, pressed the push button near the door. The room was at once flooded with light. Grace glanced about, then gave a momentary sigh of relief. The room, the small parlor of the suite, was quite vacant. At its further end the door to Ruth Morton's bedroom stood ajar. With the clerk beside her, Grace hurriedly crossed the room. With a prayer in her heart she pushed open the bedroom door. Her companion at the same moment felt along the door-jamb for the electric switch. In an instant the bedroom lights were turned on. Then Grace saw that her fears had been fully justified. On the floor, halfway between the door and the bed, lay Ruth Morton, apparently lifeless. Her face was the color of chalk, her eyes were closed. With a cry, Grace fell on her knees beside the unconscious girl and with trembling fingers felt her heart. The clerk, a weak-faced young man, stood gazing at the scene before him in amazed horror. "She isn't dead!" Grace exclaimed, turning an excited face to him. "Her heart is still beating. Send for a doctor, quick!" Then, taking the unconscious girl in her arms, she lifted her to the bed. CHAPTER XV Richard Duvall, realizing that the woman he sought had once more eluded him, was for the moment unable to decide what to do next. He was oppressed by a sense of failure. Apparently this enemy of Ruth Morton's was far more resourceful than he had supposed. She had gotten clear away, and there appeared no means by which he could trace her. That the second cab, the one he had hailed, contained Grace, did not of course occur to him. The trail appeared to be hopelessly lost.