“Oh no; the matter is no secret, that I know of, and really you are so cozy here,” with an appreciative glance about the attractive room as he resumed his seat, “I am tempted to stay and chat a while.  I recently received a communication from an English lawyer who desired to turn a case over to me, as it related to American parties, and he had no time to come here to look them up.  A man who was on his way home from Australia, was taken ill in London and died there; but before his death he made his will, leaving all his property to a niece, although he did not know whether she was living or not.  All the information he could give regarding her was her name, with the date and place of her birth.  In case she should not be living, her heirs are to inherit the money.  I have made every effort to find her—­have been to the place where she was born—­but can get no trace of her—­no one remembered such a person, and I could not even learn whether she had ever married.  I am afraid that the case will prove to be a very complicated and vexatious one.”

“I should think so,” responded Mrs. Montague, who appeared to be deeply interested in the story.  “What was the girl’s name?”

“Mona Forester.”

“Mona Forester!” repeated the woman, in a startled tone, and growing as white as her handkerchief.  “I didn’t know she had a relative in the world, except—­”

She abruptly paused, for she had been thrown entirely off her guard, and had committed herself, just as the wily lawyer intended and suspected.

A flash of triumph gleamed in his eyes for an instant at the success of his ruse.

“Ah! did you ever know of such a person?” he demanded, eagerly, and with well-feigned surprise.

“I—­I knew of—­a girl by that name before I was married,” Mrs. Montague reluctantly admitted, and beginning to recover her composure.

“Where did she reside?”

“She was born in Trenton, New Jersey, I believe,” was the evasive reply.

“Yes, my papers so state—­and she must be the same person,” said Mr. Corbin, in a tone of conviction.  “But that is very meager information.  Was Trenton your home also?”

“No, I lived in New York until my marriage.”

“Was Miss Forester ever married?”

“Yes.”

“Ah! how fortunate that I happened to mention this circumstance to you this evening!” exclaimed the lawyer, with great apparent satisfaction, but ignoring the evident reluctance of his companion to give him information.  “Perhaps you can give more particulars.  Whom did the lady marry?”

“Don’t ask me anything about her, Mr. Corbin,” Mrs. Montague cried, excitedly, and with an angry gesture.  “The girl ruined my life—­she loved the man I loved and—­I hated her accordingly.”

“But surely you can have no objection to telling me what you know of her history,” returned Mr. Corbin, with assumed surprise.  “I have this case to settle, and I simply wish to find the woman or her heirs, in order to do my duty and carry out the instructions of the will.  It would assist me greatly if you could tell me where I might find her,” he concluded, in an appealing tone.