"Very good, ma'am. I'll attend to it, ma'am."
Grace went up to her room, satisfied that she had remedied her mistake, and began to look through an afternoon paper she had bought. There seemed nothing better to do, during the evening, than to go to the theater. Glancing down the list of attractions, she suddenly saw the name of Ruth Morton, in large letters, billed in a new feature play, _An American Beauty_, opening at the Grand Theater that night. She at once made up her mind to go. Since yesterday, her interest in Miss Morton had perceptibly increased. And in spite of all, Richard _had_ held her hand.
She was just finishing her dinner, when a page came through the room, calling her name. She got up at once and followed him to the lobby.
"There's a chauffeur outside wants to see you, ma'am," he said, "Tom Leary."
Grace understood at once, and made her way to the sidewalk. The cab driver of the morning stood near the entrance.
"I beg pardon, ma'am, for calling you out," he said, "but I couldn't come in, and there was something I felt you ought to know."
"A lady came here to see me a while ago," he said. "A smallish looking woman, not pretty, with light hair. She had on a dark brown suit. Not very good style, ma'am. She asked me if I knew anybody in the hotel named Duvall. I said I did. I find she'd been asking all the other cabmen, and had been to the desk, before that. I guess she must have been inquiring for your husband, ma'am."
"Yes--yes--very likely," Grace hastily replied. "What then?"
"Well, ma'am, she then asked me if I knew Mrs. Duvall. I said I did. Then she wanted to know if I'd driven either you or your husband to any other hotel to-day, and I said I hadn't, but that I usually did drive you, when you went anywhere. I took the liberty of saying that, ma'am."
"Then she hands me five dollars, and says that if I _did_ drive you to any other hotel, I was to let her know which one it was."
The man fished from his pocket a small bit of cardboard upon which was scrawled with a pencil "Alice Watson, General Delivery."
Grace stared at the bit of paper in surprise. Had she, by some lucky chance, discovered the very person for whom Richard was seeking? Of course the name was probably a fictitious one, and the address "General Delivery," meant nothing, and yet, it provided a clew by means of which this woman might be found.