“More than that,” added Kennedy, after examining the fibres of the paper under a microscope, “all these notes are written on the same kind of paper.  That first torn note to Miss Blaisdell was written right in the Novella and left so as to seem to have been sent in from outside.”

It was early the following morning when Kennedy roused me with the remark:  “I think I’ll go up to the hospital.  Do you want to come along?  We’ll stop for Barron on the way.  There is a little experiment I want to try on that girl up there.”

When we arrived, the nurse in charge of the ward told us that her patient had passed a fairly good night, but that now that the influence of the drug had worn off she was again restless and still repeating the words that she had said over and over before.  Nor had she been able to give any clearer account of herself.  Apparently she had been alone in the city, for although there was a news item about her in the morning papers, so far no relative or friend had called to identify her.

Kennedy had placed himself directly before her, listening intently to her ravings.  Suddenly he managed to fix her eye, as if by a sort of hypnotic influence.

“Agnes!” he called in a sharp tone.

The name seemed to arrest her fugitive attention.  Before she could escape from his mental grasp again he added:  “Your date-book is full.  Aren’t you going to the Novella this morning?”

The change in her was something wonderful to see.  It was as though she had come out of a trance.  She sat up in bed and gazed about blankly.

“Yes, yes, I must go,” she cried as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  Then she realised the strange surroundings and faces.  “Where is my hat—­wh-where am I?  What has happened?”

“You are all right,” soothed Kennedy gently.  “Now rest.  Try to forget everything for a little while, and you will be all right.  You are among friends.”

As Kennedy led us out she fell back, now physically exhausted, on the pillow.

“I told you, Barron,” he whispered, “that there was more to this case than you imagined.  Unwittingly you brought me a very important contribution to a case of which the papers are full this morning, the case of the murdered actress, Blanche Blaisdell.”

IV

THE BEAUTY SHOP

It was only after a few hours that Kennedy thought it wise to try to question the poor girl at the hospital.  Her story was simple enough in itself, but it certainly complicated matters considerably without throwing much light on the case.  She had been busy because her day was full, and she had yet to dress the hair of Miss Blaisdell for her play that night.  Several times she had been interrupted by impatient messages from the actress in her little dressing-booth, and one of the girls had already demolished the previous hair-dressing in order to save time.  Once Agnes had run down for a few seconds to reassure her that she would be through in time.