He considered for a moment in silence. Then he turned to Morris. "Anything more you can think of that Bill might be able to tell us, Mr. Morris?" he asked. Morris shook his head, despondingly. "All right then, Bill," said Clancy. "You've given us quite a lot to think about, anyway, and we're much obliged to you. Just give me your name and address, will you, in case anything should turn up that we needed you again," and having entered the direction in his notebook, he added, "Now beat it over to the Penn. Station and show us where you left the lady." "And this is for yourself," said Donald, leaning quickly forward and slipping a bill into the man's hand. The crisp slip of green-engraved paper must have been more effective than the most advertised pure gasoline and motor oil, for no cab of its size and condition had ever made better time than Bill's cab did in getting to its destination. It was only a matter of moments when they were gliding down the long incline to the station. "This is where I left her," said Bill, as the cab, panting like an animal, with the haste it had made, stopped opposite the express windows, the lights of which showed yellow against the outer sunshine and the blue of the gas vapours which strove to escape from between the tall pillars of the carriage entrance. The two young men leaped out of the cab and while Morris was paying the man off, Peter asked, in a low tone, "Did you see where the lady went when she got out of the cab, Bill?" "No," the man answered, straightening his leg to shove the money Morris had just given him into his trousers pocket. "She paid me as we were runnin' down, and as soon as a couple of guys had jerked the trunk off, I beat it." "Well--all right, Bill," said Peter. "So long," and with a friendly wave of the hand, the cabman, realizing that the curiosity which he felt would probably never be satisfied, proceeded on his way, while the young detective, followed by Donald Morris, began his investigations. He made searching inquiries at every ticket-window in the great, softly echoing main room of the station and at the express offices. He even went down to the waiting room of the Long Island Railroad and enquired there at all the possible places. No one remembered seeing, on the previous evening, a lady answering the meagre description Peter was able to give. Her costume was, obviously, conventional, and with her veil down, there had been nothing about her to attract attention. Among the hundreds of people passing every hour through the vast station Anne Blake also had passed, leaving no trace. CHAPTER X A BIG TRUNK