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“I shook my head. “I don’t know, but I don’t think so. Here she is, you might ask her yourself.” She appeared at the edge of the stage at this moment, with her street clothes on, and she approached when I beckoned.

“Will you come over here for just a minute, please, Miss Sargent?” I asked. She came over, and I saw that there was an unearthly pallor on her face. I ascribed it to her recent experience, and commented mentally upon the fact that it gave her the appearance of being a lovely creature who was not of this earth.

“These are newspaper men, Miss Sargent,” I said. “They have been asking me whether you have had any more letters from your ‘Unknown Admirer.’ I told them you haven’t, but thought I might perhaps be mistaken.”

“Have you heard from him again, Miss Sargent?” asked one of the young men.

She hesitated a moment before answering, and her face went even a shade paler. Finally she answered, speaking in a low but steady voice.

“No, I have had no more letters from him,” she said. “I thought I might perhaps get one from him before the opening tonight, but there hasn’t been a word. I’ve had the usual number of crank letters, however, thanks to the publicity you gentlemen gave the story in your papers. But nothing that was from him, I am sure.”