"Why," the woman hesitated slightly, though Donald was under the impression that she was not trying to be evasive, "I don't quite know how to put it, Mr. Morris, but between friends, it seemed to me that Miss Blake--or Miss Curwood, as she calls herself--has kind of--lost her memory." "Just how do you mean?" asked Donald, groaning inwardly. If the woman was right, if Mary's mind were affected---- "She doesn't even seem to remember who I am," answered Mrs. Shultze, quickly. "And when I asked who her friends were, and if some of 'em mightn't stake her for awhile, she looked at me, kind of blank-like, and she says, putting her hand to her head, like this, 'Friends--friends? I don't believe I have a friend in the world.' And you know, Mr. Morris, that's all nonsense. Of course a young lady like her's bound to have all the friends she wants. And then, when I found out who she was, why, 'twas only natural I should come to the gentleman the paper mentioned, thinking that any one that knew the poor thing would be glad to help her. But, if you don't see your way to that," her raised eyebrows and lifted chin were slightly aggressive, "why, the paper give the name of her manager, Mr. Frederick Jones, and I can go to him. I don't believe he's no tightwad, and I guess----" Donald Morris leaped to his feet. His subsequent actions were almost automatic, so poignant were his emotions. "Wait one moment, Mrs. Shultze," he said, hurriedly. "I'll go with you at once. Just wait one moment." He dashed through the hall and into a big library at the back of the house. Seating himself at a telephone desk, he called O'Malley. When the connection was made: "I can't come to your office to-night, Captain O'Malley." He spoke rapidly, and the old man at the other end of the wire caught the excitement in his tone. "Why, what's up, Mr. Morris?" he asked, quickly. "I know where Miss Blake is, O'Malley," Donald cried. "She's staying with a woman who's here in the house now. I'm going to her at once. I----" "Don't you want me to go with you, Mr. Morris? I can as well as not, and I'll keep in the background if you say so. Don't you think it would be advisable? Where is she?" "The address is 111 West Forty ---- Street...." O'Malley whistled under his breath, but Donald did not hear him. "I don't quite know----" He hesitated. "Pick me up at the northwest corner of Broadway and Thirty-ninth Street," said O'Malley, crisply. "I'll be there before you are and it won't cause any delay. If you don't need me, I'll just stay in the cab." "All right, O'Malley. I think I'll be glad to have you along," Donald agreed, and with a caution born of his estimate of Mrs. Gertrude Shultze, he added, swiftly, "Don't mention your--your profession before the person you'll find in the cab with me. I'll say you're a friend of Miss Blake's." "I'm on," said O'Malley, briefly, and Morris hung up the receiver. He went swiftly back to the reception room. "I'm ready, Mrs. Shultze," he said.