But Van Reypen started cheerily off and went to the studios.

There he was met by blank disappointment.  Mrs. Bixby was greatly interested in his story, and greatly concerned for Azalea’s welfare, but she declared the girl had not come there.

Van Reypen was not quite sure she was telling him the truth, but his deep anxiety so stirred the motherly heart of Mrs. Bixby that she assured him earnestly that her statements were absolutely true, and that she was as anxious to find the missing girl as her friends were.

But she could offer no suggestion as to any way to look, and poor Philip went back, disheartened and disappointed.

All the morning they searched the grounds and the neighbourhood; they ransacked Azalea’s belongings in hope of some old letter or clue of some sort.  But nothing gave so much as a hint of anything that could have happened to her, that made her go away.

“I believe it’s all your fault, Elise,” said Van Reypen, angrily, for his alarm and sorrow made him forget his usual courtesy.  “You’ve never liked Azalea, and you said mean things to her!”

“Now, Phil,” remonstrated Patty, “don’t talk like that.  Elise and Azalea were not congenial, but Elise wouldn’t do anything to make Azalea run away, and Azalea wouldn’t run, if she did!”

This involved speech brought a laugh, but Philip went on; “I think she would.  Azalea is more sensitive than you thought her.  None of you understand her,—­well, except Patty,—­and her poor little heart was broken by your criticisms and continual reproofs.  Suppose she isn’t quite as well up in the airs and graces of society as you all are,—­she has other traits that make up for that—­”

“Oh, Philip, you’re hopelessly in love with her!” and Elise laughed jeeringly.

“I am in love with her,” he returned, “and I make no secret of it.  But not hopelessly, Elise.  I shall find her,—­I don’t know how or where, but I never will give up the quest until I succeed!”

“Good for you,” cried Patty, “that’s the way to talk!  I’ll help,—­and though there’s not any apparent way to look just now,—­we’ll find one.”

It was about noon when Van Reypen was called to the telephone.

A strange but pleasant voice spoke to him, and asked him if he knew Alice Adams.

“No, I don’t,” said Phil, wonderingly.

“She knows you, and—­well, I may be doing the wrong thing, but I wish you could come here.”

“Where, please? and why should I come?  I don’t know Miss Adams,—­I’m sure.”

“She is a dark-haired girl, with big, brown eyes, and a Western way of speaking—­”

“What?  Has she just come to you?  Does she wear a tan-coloured cloth suit,—­and a hat with coque feathers?”

“Yes, she does! Now will you come?”

“Where?  Who are you?—­I mean, may I ask your name?”

“I am Miss Grayson,—­a motion-picture actress—­”