“Can I help you?” Nancy asked quickly.

The woman fumbled in a purse, then shakily handed her a card, It bore the name Marie Alexandra, and an address, 14 Downey Street.

“Please take me to my home,” she whispered with a slight foreign accent.

Before Nancy could reply, Bess and George entered the lounge. When she told them about the woman’s request, both declared that they would postpone their luncheon.

“Can I help you?” Nancy asked

“We’ll go with you to Mrs. Alexandra’s,” Bess said.

“Do you have your car, Nancy?” George asked.

“No, it’s at the service station. We’ll have to take a taxi.”

Nancy assisted the woman to her feet very gently, and was rewarded with a grateful smile.

The three girls made slow progress to the street. They summoned a taxi and helped Mrs. Alexandra step into it. Nancy gave the Downey Street address to the driver.

“Thank you-thank you,” the panting woman murmured, and slumped back in a faint.

The girls chafed Mrs. Alexandra’s hands and fanned her. Her pocketbook had fallen to the floor and several articles had tumbled out. One of these was a jeweled, monogrammed bottle of smelling salts, which Bess opened and held under the woman’s nostrils.

“She’s coming to now,” Bess said a moment later as the woman’s eyelids fluttered.

Relieved, Nancy reached down to pick up the handbag and its scattered contents. Almost at her feet lay a gold-framed miniature photograph of a little boy in a sailor suit. He was about four years old. She stared at the quaint picture, then turned it over. The back of the case was glass. Underneath were several locks of hair, secured with tiny ruby clasps.

“This is very unusual,” Nancy thought.