“We thought so, but on consulting our books found the measurements showed that one was for a large woman and the other woman must have been slender.” “I suppose it is absurd to ask if you have any idea of where the messenger was from,” Dick said, rather faintly. “I do not know, of course, but there is a messenger office on the block above, where you might inquire. It is almost useless, though, for the lady doubtless got the boy in her district, and as you are aware, this is not a district of residences. Still, you would not lose anything by asking. They may be able to offer you some assistance. I can give you the date the boy called for the gown and I am very sorry I cannot do more for you.” The man had the gown put in a box for Richard, who left the establishment feeling happier than he had since he and Penelope had found the dead girl. He was on the track of her identity at last, and, though it was a faint clue he possessed, he felt it a very sure one. They did not show much inclination to help Richard at the District Telegraph office. At first they said it was impossible to tell which messenger it was, even if he had been from that place, and then, after a fashion, they did make a search, but with no success. “I know it,” said one of the messengers, who was standing at the counter. “I had stopped out front to scrap with Reddy Ryan, who was takin’ a basket of clothes home, and a duffer drove up in a carriage and asked if I’d do a job for him, ’n I told him I’d been sent on a call, so he said he’d give me a dime if I’d run an’ get him a messenger. I came, an’ Shorty, No. 313, was sent out. I remember it ’cause he told me the man just sent him into Moscowitz’s to get a dress an’ pay a bill, an’ gave him a dollar for doin’ it.” “Where is No. 313?” asked Dick, his spirits rising fifty per cent. “He’s off on a call. No, here he is,” said the messenger who knew something. “Come here, Shorty, you’re wanted.” Shorty was a red-headed boy with a freckled face and one eye. The other messenger recalled the circumstances to him, and he sniffed his nose and said he remembered. Richard then asked if there was a lady in the carriage, but No. 313 thought not. Then Richard asked him what the man looked like, but No. 313 could not say, except that he had a mustache and wore a soft felt hat. No. 313 had no opinion as to whether the carriage was private or hired, but he “guessed” it wasn’t a livery hack, “cause the harness jingled.” The other and brighter messenger said the man was young, denied the soft felt hat and pronounced the carriage a hired one. * * * * * Richard hurried through his dinner, possessed of an unusual feeling of happiness, and went for Dido Morgan to spend their last evening in their peculiar search for Maggie’s sister.