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58 MOTION PICTURE MAGAZINE figure of the girl stiffened with re- turning consciousness. Further down the Avenue, in the club zone, a midnight stroller was loitering toward home. Richard Neal, private detective, had no impetus to hurry. His bachelor quarters de- manded no account of wasted mo- ments, and tonight the moon com- panioned him, leading his Benedict thoughts romance-ward. He found girls wear shoes, I wonder- he made his discovery. Then THE STRUGGLE himself thinking of a girl as a man thinks on the eve of a proposal. So deliciously deep was he in his cloudy reflections that he did not notice the taxicab whirling toward him. A sharp rap on the side of his head brought him to earth rapidly. Dazed, he looked about for the cause—around, down, stooped and picked up—a slipper! "What in the name of Pete!" he gasped, rubbing the stinging spot, incredulous eyes on the small, dainty silken thing. "A slipper and no foot! Do disembodied spirits of chorus- Scrawled across the pink side of the slipper in ragged letters, frantic with haste, were the words: Help—Purple Taxi Co. Machine No. 3184 X—hurry. Judith Hamilton. The private detective thrust the slipper into his greatcoat pocket with a hand that shook. "Good Lord!" he said aloud, as a man to whom has happened the unbelievable. For the name on the slipper was that of the girl whose lovely image he had been visioning in the moonlight a moment ago! "Who's the chauffeur of number three thousand one hundred and eighty-four X?" The sleepy clerk yawned himself into a sitting position, and glanced indifferently across the desk. "Three thousand one hundred and eighty-four X? Le's see — h'm — Flynn's the name." '' The stand for the machine is " '' Eighty-fourth Street, corner Madi- 'Thanks." son. 'The scarab was- "In the escritoire." "And Judith?" "Writing letters in her room across the hall." "I am tiring you, I'm afraid. One question more only. This is the win- dow here?" "Yes—it looks out on the porch. Be careful—there are pails of paint all over the roof where the workmen are repairing." "Paint? Then"—a moment's pause for investigation, then a yell of triumph—"heel-marks—now we have 'em! Plain as day." "My God, it cant be too soon—my poor little girl!" "Dont think of it, sir. You've had a terrible night, but it's daylight now, and we'll have her back safe before dark. Listen — I have a scheme "