"All right, Mr. Graves," I said.

He pushed the parlor door open and looked in, whistling. "This is the
place, isn't it?"

"Yes. But it was up-stairs that he--"

"I see. Tall woman, Mrs. Ladley?"

"Tall and blond. Very airy in her manner."

He nodded and still stood looking in and whistling. "Never heard her
speak of a town named Horner, did you?"

"Horner? No."

"I see." He turned and wandered out again into the hall, still
whistling. At the door, however, he stopped and turned. "Look anything
like this?" he asked, and held out one of his hands, with a small
kodak picture on the palm.

It was a snap-shot of a children's frolic in a village street, with
some onlookers in the background. Around one of the heads had been
drawn a circle in pencil. I took it to the gas-jet and looked at it
closely. It was a tall woman with a hat on, not unlike Jennie Brice.
She was looking over the crowd, and I could see only her face, and
that in shadow. I shook my head.

"I thought not," he said. "We have a lot of stage pictures of her, but
what with false hair and their being retouched beyond recognition,