The next morning, however, things looked very different. The breakfast they brought up to my rooms—for I explained that I had been knocked down in the street, through my newness to traffic—was better than I expected. And I was enjoying it thoroughly—until I opened the paper. Then the breakfast was forgotten. For the front page had a full account of the strange disappearance of Miss Van Cleef and the hue and cry that had been raised on account of it. The police were at fault as usual, and the paper I had, which happened to be anti-Tammany, waxed almost hysterical over the great number of recent disappearances and the helplessness of the police. The greater part of the article was confined to this sort of thing. About the only piece of news of value to me was the fact that Natalie had been last seen when she left the house to start for Mrs. Fawcette’s luncheon. She had, it seemed, arrived at the house, but a little later had complained of a severe headache and had had a taxi called and started for home in it. Nothing had been seen of her since. Mrs. Fawcette was prostrated at the news and had canceled all her social engagements. She was quoted as feeling almost responsible in a way for the girl’s disappearance. This was a daringly artistic touch in which I thought I recognized Mrs. Fawcette’s peculiar brand of humor. For nearly an hour I prowled around my room, shaking with rage and anxiety. It is anything but pleasant to know that some one you love is in danger—terrible danger perhaps—and be utterly helpless. I knew that Mrs. Fawcette was at the bottom of Natalie’s disappearance. But I had not the faintest shadow of a proof. Nor had I any idea as to where the girl might be. But after a while I came to a decision. I was morally certain that Mrs. Fawcette knew about the girl’s disappearance. Therefore I must try somehow to get some information through Mrs. Fawcette. I could not get this directly, for I was wanted by the police, and Mrs. Fawcette had stolen the card-case that involved me in the burglarious entry into Vining’s rooms. But it was possible that I might be able to find out something in her house or through her servants. And suddenly my heart gave a leap. Perhaps Natalie was still there, imprisoned in the woman’s house. Mrs. Fawcette had canceled all her social engagements! I could do nothing until midnight, however. That was certain. But then, knowing the interior of the house, downstairs at least, as I did, it would be very bad luck indeed if Larry and I, or I alone, could not get into the house and out again without being caught. I had no scruples in taking Larry, if he wanted to come, because I knew that if we got into trouble with the police, I could clear him finally through the Chief.