It was Mrs.Palmer herself, with a letter at last, written on rough paper in pencil with a trembling hand.
Constance almost literally pounced on it.
"Will you tell the lady who was so kind to me that while she was out seeing you at the tea room, there was a call at her door?
I didn't like to open it, but when I asked who was there, a man said it was the steam-fitter she had asked to call about the heat.
"I opened the door.

From that moment when I saw his face until I came to myself here I remember nothing.

I would write to her, only I don't know where she lives.

One of the bell-boys here is kind enough to smuggle this note out for me addressed to the Betsy Boss.
"Tell her please, that I am at a place in Brooklyn, I think, called Lustgarten's--she can recognize it because it is at a railroad crossing--steam railroads, not trolleys or elevateds.
"I know you think me crazy, Mrs.Palmer, but the other lady can tell you about it.

Oh, it was the same horrible feeling that came over me that night as before.