When she had concluded, he drew forth a set of tablets and made notes of several items, after which he said: 

“Now, Miss ——­ What shall I call you?  Whom shall I ask for at the hotel, if I should wish to see you again upon this business?”

“Miss Richards.  I am traveling with a Mrs. Montague, of New York,” Mona replied.

“Well, then, Miss Richards, you go back to your hotel, and of course conduct yourself as if you had nothing unusual on your mind; but hold yourself in readiness to produce that important bit of cloth, if I should call upon you to do so within the next few hours.  By the way,” he added, with sudden thought, “if you have it with you, I might as well take a look at it.”

Mona took the paper containing it from her purse and gave it to him.

“You are sure this matches the dress?” he asked, examining it closely.  “We don’t want to make any awkward mistakes, you know.”

“It is identical.  I believe that every thread in this piece can be matched by a corresponding thread in the garment,” the fair girl asserted, so positively that he seemed to be entirely satisfied.

He returned the piece to her and then arose in a brisk, business-like way, which told that he was ready for action.

Mona also rose, and, bidding him a quiet good-day, went quickly out of the office, and hastened back to the hotel.

* * * * *

In order to understand more fully some of the incidents related, we shall have to go back a few days.

It was a bright, clear morning when a rather rough-looking, yet not unattractive person, entered a large jewelry establishment located on one of the principal streets of St. Louis.

He might have been thirty-five years of age, for there was a sprinkling of silver among his coarse, intensely black hair, which he wore quite long, and also in his huge mustache and beard.  His face was bronzed from exposure; there were crow’s feet about his eyes, and two deep wrinkles between his brows, and his general appearance indicated that he had seen a good deal of the rough side of life.

He wore a coarse though substantial suit of clothes, which hung rather loosely upon him; a gray flannel shirt with a turn-over collar, which was fastened at the throat by a flashy necktie, rather carelessly knotted; a red cotton handkerchief was just visible in one of his pockets; there were coarse, clumsy boots on his feet, and he wore a wide-brimmed, slouch hat.

He inquired of the clerk, who came forward to wait upon him, if he could see the “boss of the consarn,” as he had a little private business to transact with him.

The clerk smiled slightly at his broad vernacular, as he replied that he would speak to the proprietor, and presently an elderly gentleman appeared from an inner office, and inquired the nature of the man’s business.