"Yes," she said at once. "Yes--and I didn't know--I didn't realize completely until this morning. But," she broke off, and cast a keen glance at Peter, "forgive me, Mr. Clancy, but I don't see what concern it can be of yours. I know most of Donald's friends--and I never saw you before." "Yet I think I can truly say that I am a friend to Donald Morris," said Peter with evident sincerity. "And, aside from that, Mrs. Rutherford, I'm a professional detective. I----" "Clancy--Peter Clancy," she exclaimed, quickly. "I thought I'd heard that name! Why, you're the man Dick Schuyler told me about, several years ago." Peter nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Rutherford, and it was Mr. Schuyler who recommended me to Donald Morris. They both trust me, I think I can safely say. Won't you trust me, too, Mrs. Rutherford?" She looked at him for a long time in silence. Then she said: "Yes, I think so.... I think, perhaps, I must.... It's a terrible responsibility I have upon me. I didn't realize how serious it was until to-day.... And now, I don't know.... I can't be sure what I ought to do. But let me see. Ask your questions, Mr. Clancy, and I'll see if I can answer them. What is it you want to know?" "I've already asked one question that you haven't answered, Mrs. Rutherford," Peter said with a little smile. "Perhaps you don't realize that you haven't." "No," she said, her straight black eyebrows drawn together in a thoughtful frown. "What was the question?" "I asked you how you happened to call Miss Blake's apartment on the day after she disappeared?" "Oh, yes. I remember, you did ask me that. Well," she spoke slowly, "it was because of a letter I'd just received from her. It had just come in, and I got it at the hotel desk when I turned in my key. I was so worried about it that I went immediately to a booth and called her up." "Yes, but what was in the letter?" asked Peter, eagerly. "Did she say where she was going, or why?" "That was what puzzled, worried me," said Mrs. Rutherford, frowning still more. "It was a--a sort of wild letter. I couldn't understand it. She said she was going away. That she might never come back.... It sounded desperate.... She thanked me for all I had been to her. Asked me to forgive her.... Not that I had anything to forgive. The whole thing was my fault, if there was a fault." She paused, and added, "And that was all, Mr. Clancy. There was nothing else in the letter. I give you my word, that was all." Disappointment was written large on Peter's face.