said. It's a clever scheme, and may turn out to be still cleverer than it looks."
"I'd like to have a look at her. It takes a woman to read women."
"True. I believe it would be amusing to have you see her. The more I think of it, the more curious I am. I'll tell you. I'll ring Pinkard up and find out what he's going to do to-morrow."
He took up the telephone that evening and had a short conversation with the playwright. The next morning he said to Valeska:
"Pinkard will leave his house on West Seventy-fifth Street to-day at about ten o'clock, go to Dayton's office, lunch at the Grill Club, attend a rehearsal of his play Wild-fire at the Monster Theater in the afternoon, then go to the Park Riding Academy, dine at the Grill Club, and go to see Marlowe this evening at the Broadway. Knowing his itinerary, you can't miss him, and you'll probably see her, as she hasn't appeared for two days, and seldom misses it longer than that."
That evening Valeska returned with her report. "I saw her!" she exclaimed exultantly. "She's a beauty, too! I liked her at first sight. I followed him to Dayton's office, and she met him in Forty-second Street, almost the first thing."
"Where did she go?"
"That's the queer part of it. After she had passed him she waited on the corner of Forty-second and Broadway. An automobile came along with a lady in it—a really swell girl—stopped, and the Lady in Taupe got in. What do you think of that?"
