Highly elated over the prospect before him, the man brushed his neat suit until there wasn’t an atom of dust upon it, polished his boots until he could see his own face reflected in them, rearranged his necktie in the last new style, then ran lightly down stairs, and hastened, with quick, elastic tread, toward the Southern Hotel, where he expected to accomplish such great results.

* * * * *

“Where have you been, Ruth?” exclaimed Mrs. Montague, in an irritated tone, as Mona entered that lady’s parlor upon her return from the detective’s office.  “I wish you wouldn’t go out without consulting me.  I’ve been waiting here for a long time for you to mend these gloves.”

“I am very sorry,” Mona returned, flushing, “but after you went out to drive I assisted the chambermaid, who was nearly crazy with the toothache, to put some of the rooms in order; then, as you had not returned, I went out for a little walk.”

“Well, I don’t mind about the walk, but I didn’t bring you with me to do chamber-work in every hotel we stop at,” sharply retorted the much annoyed lady.  “You can go at the gloves right away,” she added; “then I shall want you to help me pack, for we are to leave on the first boat to-morrow morning.  And,” she concluded, thus explaining to Mona her unusual irritability, “we’ve got to make the trip alone, after all, for my friend is worse this morning, and so the whole family have given it up.”

“I am sorry that you are to be disappointed.  I should suppose you would wish to give it up yourself.  I am afraid you will not enjoy it at all,” Mona replied, wondering why she did not at once return to New York instead of keeping on.

“Of course, I shall not enjoy it,” snapped the woman, but bestowing a searching glance upon her companion, “and I would not go on, only Louis was to join us at New Orleans, and it is too late now to change his plans.”

Mona’s face fell at this unexpected and disagreeable intelligence.

The last thing she desired was Louis Hamblin’s companionship, and she would have been only too glad to return at once to New York.

“Could you not telegraph to him?” she suggested.

“No; for I suppose he has already left New York,” Mrs. Montague curtly replied.

Mona was quite unhappy over the prospect before her; then it suddenly occurred to her that perhaps Detective Rider would need her as a witness, if he should arrest the Waltons, and in that case she would be compelled to return to New York.

Still she felt very uncomfortable even with this hope to encourage her, and but for the discovery of that morning, she would have regretted having consented to accompany Mrs. Montague upon her trip.

She sat down to mend the gloves, with what composure she could assume, although her nerves were in a very unsettled state, for she was continually looking for a summons from Mr. Rider.