“True, she showed herself very shrewd.  But your son has in his possession a clew, though a very slender one, which may possibly lead to a solution of the mystery.  It is a small piece of cloth that was torn from the woman’s dress,” Doctor Wesselhoff returned.

“I am afraid that won’t amount to much, for, probably, if the woman is still in New York, which I doubt, she will never wear that dress again,” Mr. Palmer responded.  “But,” he continued, cheerfully, “I shall not complain as long as I am to have Ray back again.  I fully believed that he had been murdered.  My loss I can never tell you what anguish I have endured, for will of course eat deeply into the profits of my business for this year, but that is of comparatively little consequence.  I am more troubled to have such wickedness prosper than I am about any pecuniary loss.”

The carriage stopped just then, and the conversation ended.  Both gentlemen alighted, and Doctor Wesselhoff led the way into his house, and straight up to the chamber which Ray occupied.

He had not aroused once during the doctor’s absence, but awoke almost immediately after their entrance, and the meeting between the father and son was both joyful and tender.

Neither had ever before realized how much they were to each other, or believed that life could be so dark if they were separated.

Doctor Wesselhoff would not allow them to talk very much that night, for he said that his patient was liable to have a relapse if he became too weary or was subjected to too much excitement; so Mr. Palmer was permitted to remain only a short time with him, but promised to return again at as early an hour in the morning as the physician would allow.

He visited Ray twice every day after that, and both father and son were fully convinced of the truth and honesty of purpose of the noted specialist, who had given Ray such excellent care, and whose interest in him continued to increase throughout his recovery.

The Palmers found him very genial and entertaining, and an enduring friendship grew up between the three.

Ray improved very rapidly, and was able by the end of two weeks to return to his own home; but, though he was very thankful to be restored to health and to his father once more he was saddened and dismayed upon learning of Mr. Dinsmore’s sudden death, and that Mona had been deprived of her inheritance.

He was still more appalled when, upon making inquiries, he could learn nothing of her movements since leaving her home.  No one seemed to know anything about her—­even her friend Susie Leades was in ignorance of her whereabouts, for Mona had shrunk, with extreme sensitiveness, from telling any one, save Mr. Graves, of her plans for the future.

Ray did not know who had been Mr. Dinsmore’s man of business, so, of course, he could not appeal to the lawyer, and he was finally forced to believe that Mona had left New York.