"No, it doesn't seem probable," Morris said, after a pause. "And they couldn't get an expressman on Sunday, of course.... Miss Blake expected to spend the summer in town ... and she was here Saturday night, late.... She wouldn't have sent her trunks beforehand.... It was a sudden resolution...." They were making their way eastward at a rapid rate, and in a few minutes they reached University Place and the pleasant old Lafayette.... He and Mary had dined there several times, Morris remembered with an inward groan, in some secluded corner where the lights were dim. Always she had avoided attracting attention, never seeking the public eye, except upon the stage. Unlike most actresses, she had even been averse to being photographed. He could remember only a few portraits which had been taken at the beginning of her career. Her face would be familiar to those who had seen her on the stage, but to few others. The thought troubled him now, since it would add to the difficulty of tracing her. Clancy had left him upon the sidewalk at the entrance of the hotel. Running up the steps, the detective had exchanged a few words with the doorman. After that he had spoken to several of the taxi drivers lined up along the curb. Suddenly he turned, and beckoning excitedly to Morris, took a few rapid steps in his direction. "The luck of the Irish!" Peter exclaimed, joyfully, as the two young men met. "You can't beat it! I've found the man." "No!" cried Morris, eagerly. "Yes!" said Peter with emphasis. "The next to the last man on the line, the one I just spoke to, took a lady and a trunk from Ninety-nine Waverly Place a little after five yesterday afternoon. Come on, and we'll get the rest!" CHAPTER IX WHAT THE CABMAN KNEW "One lady?" questioned Morris, excitedly, catching Peter by the arm as they hurried toward the taxi, the driver of which stood, expectant, by its open door. "Only one," said Peter, in a low voice, "and I don't know yet which one, but we'll soon find out." He motioned Morris to get into the cab, and spoke familiarly to the chauffeur: "Drive us over to the Square, old top, and line up along somewhere where it's quiet. We want to have a little talk with you. And you can keep your metre ticking, so that'll be O. K.," he added, with a grin. The driver, a big, strong young fellow, grinned pleasantly in response and jumped to his wheel. In a moment they drew up in a quiet spot on the old Square. "This do?" asked the taxi man, turning in his place and speaking through the open front of the cab.