“That remains to be explained, together with some other things which are no less interesting and startling,” the detective returned, with an air of triumph.  “And now,” raising his voice a trifle, “if a certain little lady will show herself, I imagine we can entertain you with another act in this strange comedy.”

As he spoke the drawing-room door, which the man had left slightly ajar when he entered, was pushed open, and Mona made her appearance with her arms full of clothing.

She glided straight to the detective’s side, and handed him something which, with a dextrous movement, he clapped upon Mrs. Montague’s bowed head.

It was a wig of rich, dark-red hair, which fell in lovely rings about the woman’s fair forehead and white neck.

She lifted her face with a cry of terror at Mr. Rider’s act, and behold! the beautiful Mrs. Vanderbeck was before them!

Ray knew at once why Mrs. Montague had looked so strangely to him as she arose to greet him when he entered.

Her face had been artistically made up, with certain applications of pencil and paint, to give her the appearance of being considerably older than she was.  But he wondered how she happened to be so made up that morning.

“That is not all,” Mr. Rider resumed, as he took a costly tailor-made dress from Mona’s arm and held it up before his speechless auditors.  “Here is the robe which was so badly rent at the time that Mrs. Vanderbeck escorted Mr. Raymond Palmer to the great Doctor Wesselhoff for treatment, while the fragment that was torn from it will fit into the hole.  And here,” taking another garment from Mona, “is a widow’s costume in which the fascinating Mrs. Bently figured in Chicago, when she so skillfully duped a certain Mr. Cutler, swindling him out of a handsome sum of money, and giving him paste ornaments in exchange.  No one would ever imagine the elegant Mrs. Richmond Montague and the lovely widow to be one and the same person, for they were entirely different in figure as well as face, the former being very slight, while the latter was inclined to be decidedly portly, as was also Mrs. Vanderbeck.

“But, gentlemen, that is also easily explained, as you will see if you examine these costumes, for there must be five pounds, more or less, of cotton wadding used about each to pad it out to the required dimensions.  Clever, very clever!” interposed Mr. Rider, bestowing a glance of admiration upon the bowed and shivering figure before him.  “I think, during all my experience, I have never had so complicated and interesting a case.  I do not wonder that you look dazed, gentlemen,” he went on, with a satisfied glance at his wide-eyed and wondering listeners, “and I imagine I could have surprised you still more if I had had time to examine a certain trunk which stands open up stairs in the lady’s chamber.  I think I could find among its contents a gray wig and other garments belonging to a certain Mrs. Walton, so called, and perhaps a miner’s suit that would fit Mr. Louis Hamblin, alias Jake Walton, who in St. Louis recently tried to dispose of costly diamonds which he had brought all the way from Australia, for his rustic sweetheart—­eh?  Ha, ha, ha!” and the jubilant man burst into a laugh of infinite amusement.