"Well, we can go to all the theatrical offices, and make inquiries. I have my badge under my coat, and they will answer, all right." They went to every big office in the whole theatrical district. But there, too, the search was vain. Mary was too nervous and wretched to enjoy the possibility of a dinner, and so Burke took her home. Her father asked for Lorna, to which Mary made some weak excuse which temporarily quieted the old gentleman. Promising to keep up his search in restaurants and offices, Burke hurried on downtown again. It was useless. Throughout the night he sought, but no trace of the girl had been found. When he finally went up to the Barton home to learn if the young girl had returned, he found the old man frantic with fear and worriment. "Burke, some ill has befallen the child," he exclaimed. "Mary has finally told me the truth, and my heart is breaking." "There, sir, you must be patient. We will try our best. I can start an investigation through police channels that will help along." "But father became so worried that we called up your station. The officer at the other end of the telephone took the name, and said he would send out a notice to all the stations to start a search." "Great Scott! That means publicity, Miss Mary. The papers will have the story sure, now. There have been so many cases of girls disappearing lately that they are just eager for another to write up." Mary wrung her hands, and the old man chattered on excitedly. "Then if it is publicity I don't care. I want my daughter, and I will do everything in the world to get her." Burke calmed them as much as he could, but if ever two people were frantic with grief it was that unhappy pair. [Illustration: Father and daughter were frantic with grief.] Bobbie hurried on downtown again, promising to keep them advised about the situation. After he left Mary went to her own room, and by the side of the bed which she and the absent one had shared so long, she knelt to ask for stronger aid than any human being could give. If ever prayer came from the depths of a broken heart, it was that forlorn plea for the lost sister! All through the night they waited in vain. * * * * * The first page of every New York paper carried the sensational story of the disappearance of Lorna Barton. Not that such a happening was unusual, but in view of the white slavery arrests and the gang fight in which Bobbie Burke had figured so prominently; his partial connection with the case, and those details which the fertile-minded reporters could fill in, it was full of human interest, and "yellow" as the heart of any editor could desire. Pale and heart-sick Mary went down to Monnarde's next morning. The girls crowded about her in the wardrobe room, some to express real sympathy, others to show their condescension to one whom they inwardly felt was far superior in manners, appearance and ability.