When they were finished she helped about the packing of Mrs. Montague’s wardrobe, and then repaired to her chamber, to get her own in readiness to leave; but still no word from the detective, and she thought it very strange.

It might have been an hour after Mona’s return to the hotel, when that official sauntered into the office, where he picked up a paper and looked it over for a few minutes.  Then he went to the counter, pulled the register before him, and began to glance up and down its pages.

He finally found the names he was searching for, then turning to the clerk, he requested that a boy might take a note from him to Mrs. J.M.  Walton’s room.

“Mrs. Walton?” repeated the clerk, with some surprise.

“Yes; I have a little matter of business with her,” said Mr. Rider, who intended to make his arrest very quietly.

“I am sorry you did not come earlier, then,” regretfully responded the clerk, “for Mrs. Walton and her son left the hotel about two hours ago,”

The detective’s heart sank with a sudden shock.

Gone! his birds flown when he had them so nearly captured!

“Are you sure?” he sharply demanded, while in spite of his long and severe training, he turned very white, and his under lip twitched nervously.

“Certainly, or I should not have so stated,” returned the clerk, with some dignity.  “When young Mr. Walton settled his bill, he ordered a carriage to be in waiting at eleven o’clock, and both he and his mother left the house at that time.  I regret your disappointment, sir, in missing them.”

This was almost more than Mr. Rider could bear; but he could not doubt the man’s word, and he feared the thieves had escaped him again.  They must have left while Mona was telling him her story at the detective headquarters.

They had been very sharp.  Finding themselves in a bad box, they had planned their movements with great cunning.  He believed that Mrs. Walton had deposited the amount required for bail in the bank, with the deliberate intention of forfeiting it, rather than have her accomplice brought to trial; doubtless he was too useful to her to run any risk of his being found guilty, and imprisoned for a term of years, and thus put an end to their successful career.

The detective berated himself soundly again for not objecting to the acceptance of bail at all, but it was too late now to remedy the matter.  Regrets were useless, and he must bestir himself, strike a fresh trail, if possible, and hope for better results.

He wondered why they had not skipped immediately after Jake Walton’s release, but finally concluded that they had remained in the city for a day or two to disarm suspicion.

“Where did they go?” he inquired, as soon as he could command his voice to speak calmly.

“To the Grand Union Station.  I believe they were going North, for I heard the young man say something about purchasing tickets, at reduced rates, for Chicago,” the clerk replied.