He told her he wished to see whoever had charge of the place. Requesting him to be seated she left soon to return with a man. Richard felt more comfortable than he had all day. He explained to the man, who listened kindly and politely, showing neither surprise nor curiosity, that he wished to find the persons who had made the gown he had with him, in order to find out who had paid for the dress and where it had been delivered. The man took the gown and went to the workroom. Later he returned and went inside the small office. Richard waited impatiently, and for the first time a hope of solving the mystery of Central Park entered his heart. Surely when the man took so much time he had discovered something. Still Richard tried to keep his expectations from running away, lest he be compelled to suffer a severe disappointment; so when the man came towards him with the crumpled gown flung across his arm Richard offered the consolation to himself that he had still left for his inquiry the less fashionable dressmakers. “The dress was made here,” the man said. Dick’s pulse started off at a two-minute gait. “A letter was sent here containing an order for a dress. The measurements were inclosed and with them over half the price of the dress in bills. The letter stated that the person for whom it was intended was out of town, and that in ten days the dress would be called for. “We often have customers order dresses from a distance,” the man continued, “and we make them from measure. Ten days afterwards a messenger boy came in with an order for us to receipt for the price of the dress and a $100 bill, from which I took the rest of the price and gave him the dress and the change.” “Have you the letter that was sent you with the measurements and order?” asked Richard, with a calmness that covered his excitement. “No. The boy said he must have the letter containing the measurements, and I sent up to the forewoman in the workroom. She had transferred the order to her book, but had the letter pinned to the same page, so she sent it down and I gave it to the messenger.” “Have you not even the name and address of the person who ordered the dress?” asked Dick, very much cast down by the turn things had taken. “The name we have--it was Miss L. W. Smith--but there was no address. It was an unusual thing for us to do, but as I told you, we have many customers who send us orders for dresses when they are away from town, and ladies are not always careful and exact about addresses. They are liable to fall into the error of thinking that if we have once made a garment for them, by merely signing their name we are sure to recall their address and histories. We keep very satisfactory books, which contain little histories of every garment we make, so we always refer to that when a lady forgets to write us as much as is necessary for us to know.” “Had you ever made a dress for Miss Smith before?” Dick asked, still a faint hope stirring his pulses.