“Yes, but did you know us at that time?”

“No, I only recognized the dress you had on.”

“Ah!  What a fool I was ever to wear it the second time,” sighed the wretched woman, regretfully.

“I knew it was very like in both color and texture the piece of goods that Mr. Palmer had once shown me.  I was almost sure when I saw that it had been mended that it was the same dress that Mrs. Vanderbeck had worn when she stole the Palmer diamonds, and immediately telegraphed to have the fragment sent to me.”

“And Ray Palmer had it and had kept it all that time!” interposed Mrs. Montague, with a frown.  “I hunted everywhere for it.”

“He sent it to me by the next mail, and I began my hunt for the dress, although at that time I did not suspect that it belonged to you,” Mona continued.  Then she explained how, while assisting the chambermaid about her work, she had found the garment hanging in a wardrobe, and proved by fitting the fragment to the rent that her suspicions were correct.

“You will also remember,” she added, “how you chided me a little later for going out without consulting you.  I had been out to seek a detective to tell him what I had discovered.”

“Ha! that was how you made Mr. Rider’s acquaintance?” interrupted Mrs. Montague, with a start.

“Yes.  He told me he was in St. Louis on business connected with that very case.  He was very much elated after hearing my story, but when he went to make his arrest he found that Mrs. Walton and her so-called son had both disappeared.  I was, of course, very much disappointed, but I never dreamed—­”

“That I and my hopeful nephew were the accomplished sharpers,” supplemented Mrs. Montague, with a bitter laugh.  “Well, Mona Dinsmore, you have been very keen.  I will give you credit for that—­you have beaten me; I confess that you have utterly defeated me, and your mother is amply avenged through you.  No doubt, you are very triumphant over my downfall,” she concluded, acrimoniously.

“Indeed, I am not,” Mona returned, with a sigh.  “I do not think I could triumph in the downfall of any one, and though I am filled with horror over what you have told me, I am very sorry for you.”

“Sorry for me!” repeated the woman, with skeptical contempt.

“Yes, I am truly sorry for you, and for any one who has fallen so low, for I am sure you must have seasons of suffering and remorse that are very hard to bear, while as for avenging my mother, I never had such a thought; I do not believe she would wish me to entertain any such spirit.  I intend to assert my rights, as my father’s daughter, but not with any desire for revenge.”

Mona’s remarks were here suddenly cut short by the return of the four gentlemen, and Mrs. Montague eagerly and searchingly scanned their faces as they gravely resumed their seats.

CHAPTER XXII.