With a rapid motion he slipped the two portraits into an inner pocket and buttoned his coat over them. "I'll find out something about her, at last! My hunch about coming here wasn't all to the bad. In this way I'll bet I find out something about the secret past of Mary Blake--and Anne----" With eyes alight with the first hope he had known for many a day, Peter put back the shade upon the table lamp, readjusted various things about the room so that they should be, as near as possible, in the order--or disorder--in which he had found them, switched off the lights, and crept softly to the door. Gently, gently, with one hand on the latch and the other on the lock, he turned the two knobs and drew open the door. As he did so a clock somewhere outside in the darkness boomed "One, Two." "Two o'clock," thought Peter, as he sped noiselessly down the stairs. "Not much sleep for me to-night. I must find out where Hobart Falls is and beat it for the first train in the morning. I've got a feeling in my bones that I've struck something at last. A little light thrown on the past may reflect on the future. Who knows? Anyhow, it's up to me not to leave a stone unturned.... And I'm curious ... damn curious.... I'd like to know...." A street door closed, with a faint, soft creak, and the lean figure of the young detective slipped away into the hot darkness. CHAPTER XVI ROSAMOND CURWOOD A clear, bright day followed the heavy thunder shower which had occurred late in the night. Peter, as he boarded the train for Hobart Falls, hoped that it was an omen. He had just had time for a few minutes' talk with O'Malley, in which he gave his partner instructions about reaching him if anything of importance should transpire during the day. "Better wire me at Hobart Falls," he said. "Have it left in the telegraph office to be called for. I can't tell where I'll be stopping and I can't think of any other way I'd be sure of getting it. I don't believe there'll be anything." After that, he had hastily called Donald Morris on the telephone and explained briefly that he was rushing out of town on a new scent. "Another false clue?" asked Morris, wearily, and Peter saw, in his mind's eye, the pale, tired face of his client. "May be," said Peter, in a friendly, hopeful tone. "But you never can tell. We mustn't miss a trick and I've found something I'm bound to follow up. It may lead to nothing, of course, but there's always a chance. I'm in a deuce of a rush just now and I'll have to wait till I get back to tell you about it. Don't get discouraged. While there's life, there's hope. While there's life----" he repeated to himself as he hung up the receiver--"I wish to God I could be sure that Mary Blake is still alive. Well, anyway----" He made the nine-thirty train for Hobart Falls with four minutes to spare. "Which is enough for anybody," thought Peter, as he watched the ugly houses and factories slip by.