To such a man she could not turn for aid or consolation in the hour of this new misfortune. Indeed, ever since his return, he had been strangely indifferent to the welfare of the child, never asking after her or expressing a desire to see her. At times it seemed as if he had forgotten that he had a child. By some strange metamorphosis he had developed into an unnatural father as well as a brutal, indifferent husband. But to Helen, alone save for the devoted companionship of her sister, this was anxiety and suffering enough. Only twenty-four hours had passed since the child disappeared, but to the unhappy mother it seemed as many years. Constantly at the telephone, expecting each moment to hear that the police had been successful in finding the child, she was gradually wearing herself away to a shadow. Breakfast she left untouched. Lunch she refused to eat. In vain Ray remonstrated with her. If she went on like that she would fall ill. But still Helen refused. Tears choked her, and morning wore into afternoon and still no news. After lunch Ray went out to see if Mr. Steell could help them, promising to return as soon as possible. Helen sat and waited alone. The clock was just striking two o'clock when the front doorbell rang and a letter was brought to her. She did not recognize the writing, but eagerly she tore it open. Instinctively, she felt it concerned her missing darling. The letter read as follows: No. -- Lasalle Street, Bronx. Friday. Madame: Your child is safe and in good hands. She wants to see her mother. If you come this afternoon (Friday) to the above address you can see her. It is the house with the closed green shutters. But if you value your child's life you must come unaccompanied, and you must inform no one of the contents of this letter, not even the members of your family. If you disobey, swift punishment will follow and your child will suffer. Climb eight flights and knock three times on door at end of passage.----X. There was no signature. The person who wrote it evidently had reasons of his own for wishing to remain concealed. That money would be demanded was more than probable. What other motive could the kidnapper have? Money she would give--all she had in the world, if only she could get back her precious child. That a visit to such a place unattended was full of danger she did not stop to consider. She only knew that her child was close by--here in New York--and had asked for her. Not for a moment did she listen to the warnings of prudence. Go she must, and immediately. She did not even stop to leave a note of explanation for Ray. Stuffing some money in a bag, she left the house, saying she would return soon.