She was about twenty-two or three, maybe, and--and--Cap, she was the goods, that's all." In the course of a day a thousand women, more or less, answering that description in a general sort of way, ride back and forth on the elevated trains.

Mr.Birnes sighed as he remembered this; still it might produce results.

Then came another idea.
"Did you happen to look in the cab after the young woman left it ?" he inquired.
"No." "Had any fares since ?" "No." Mr.Birnes opened the door of the closed cab and glanced in.

Perhaps there might be a stray glove, a handkerchief, some more definite clew than this vague description.

He scrutinized the inside of the vehicle carefully; there was nothing.