“And the proof points to a woman?” “Exactly.” “What sort of a woman?” “A lady’s maid.” “Describe her.” Patsy laughed as he replied: “That would be a hard thing for me to do, though my wife, Adelina, might satisfy you. Sometimes she is young and fair. Again, she is old and wrinkled. Now she has abundant black hair, now she has short auburn locks. She seemed to be an expert at disguises, for no one suspected her.” “Yet you are certain of your ground?” “Certainly. The face does not always do its duty when disguised. There are features which cannot be changed by art. This girl has a small mole on the right upper lip, just at the corner of the nostril.” “That is a very common face blemish.” “Exactly, but this girl has tried to secure the removal of this blemish, and it has resented the interference. It is inflamed, and is growing in size.” “What else?” “She is young.” “How do you know that?” “She looks it. She can’t be over twenty.” “Where did she appear as a young woman?” “At the Burns house.” “Go on.” “She is slender, and has a fancy for diamonds.” “Go on.” “Just now she is not in evidence. No one seems to know where she is.” “You did not unnecessarily attract attention to her?” “Oh, no. She is not supposed to be suspected. I was looking after a long-lost sister.” “Can you ascertain where she put in her extra time while out at service?” “I have already done so. She was infatuated with the stage. She went to the theatres, and sought the companionship of actors and actresses. She informed the servants at the Burns house that she was in training for the stage.” “She may be behind the footlights now.” “I can’t find her at any of the theatres.” “Well,” said the detective, “about ten o’clock to-night I may be able to point her out to you. Remain here for the present.” In an hour a call from Chick came over the phone. He was in a room opposite a private parlor at the Cumberland. “Our parties are across the hall,” he said, “and they seem to be holding a reception. About a dozen people in there now, and more coming.” “What sort of people?” “Pretty good-looking lot. Look like hotel clerks, restaurant owners, and race-horse fellows of the better class.” “Mantelle master of ceremonies?” “He appears to be.” “Any way of learning what they are talking about?” “I can’t get a single word.” “Is Julius dressed just as he was this afternoon at the café?” “Exactly.” “All right. I’ll be up there in a short time.” Nick rang off, and made up a bundle from the clothing stored in his dressing room. Then he turned to Patsy. “You saw the clothes I put up?” he asked. “Certainly.” “Well, if you see me in that rig, follow on, wherever I go. Perhaps you would better get on your messenger rig. You can go anywhere in that, in the part of the city where I am going.”