But now—­great heavens! what was he to think?

Then the suspicion came to him, with another great shock, and like a revelation, that it was all a plot; that Mrs. Montague had perhaps discovered Mona’s identity and possibly the loss of the certificate, which, she might think, had fallen into the young girl’s hands.  He had felt sure, from the quizzing to which Louis Hamblin had subjected him at Hazeldean, that that young man’s suspicions had been aroused, and possibly this sudden flitting to the South had been but a plot, from beginning to end, to entrap Mona into a marriage with the young man in order to secure the wealth they feared to lose.

“When did Mrs. Montague leave New Orleans?” he inquired, when his father had concluded, while he struggled to speak in his natural tone.

“On Tuesday evening.”

“And you say that the Havana steamer sailed that same day?”

“Yes.”

“What was the name of the steamer?”

“I do not know.  I did not ask,” Mr. Palmer replied.  He was thinking more about his own affairs than of the alleged elopement of the young people, or he must have wondered somewhat at his son’s eager questions.  “And, Ray,” he added, as the young man suddenly laid down his paper and arose, “there is one other thing I wanted to mention—­Mrs. Montague has consented to become Mrs. Palmer on the thirtieth of next month.  I—­I hope, my dear boy, that you will be prepared to receive her cordially.”

“You know, father, that I would never willfully wound you in any way, and when Mrs. Montague comes as your wife, I shall certainly accord her all due respect.”

Ray had worded his reply very cautiously, but he could not prevent himself from laying a slight emphasis upon the adverb, for he had resolved that if Mrs. Montague had been concerned in any way in a plot against Mona’s honor or happiness, he would not spare her, nor any effort to prove it to his father, and thus prevent him, if possible, from ruining his own life by a union with such a false and unscrupulous woman.

“Thank you, Ray,” Mr. Palmer replied, but not in a remarkably hopeful tone, and then remarking that he had a little matter of business to attend to, Ray went out.

Late as it was, he hastened to a cable office, hoping to be able to send a night dispatch to Havana, but he found the place closed, therefore he was obliged to retrace his steps, and wait until morning.

There was not much sleep or rest for him that night.  His faith in Mona’s truth and constancy had all returned, but he was terribly anxious about her, for the more he thought over what he had heard, the more he was convinced that she was the victim of some cunning plot that might make her very wretched, even if it failed to accomplish its object.  He knew that she was very spirited, and would not be likely to submit to the wrong that had been perpetrated against her, and this of itself might serve to make her situation all the more perilous.