CHAPTER XIX.
HOW IT HAPPENED.
Mr. Rider passed Mr. Palmer the diamond cross, which he took without a word, and carefully examined, turning it over and over and scrutinizing both the stones and the setting with the closest attention, though Ray could see that his hands were trembling with excitement, and knew that his heart was undergoing the severest torture.
"Yes," he said, after an oppressive silence, during which every eye, except Mrs. Montague's, was fixed upon him, "the cross is ours—my own private mark is on the back of the setting. And so," turning sternly to the wretched woman near him, "you were the thief; you were the unprincipled character who decoyed my son to that retreat for maniacs, and nearly made one of me! Then, oh! what treachery! what duplicity! When you feared that the net was closing about you and you would be brought to justice, you sought to make a double dupe of me by a marriage with me, imagining, I suppose, that I would suffer in silence, if the theft was ever discovered, rather than have my name tarnished by a public scandal. So you have sailed under many characters!" he went on, in a tone of biting scorn. "You are the Mrs. Bently, of Chicago! the Mrs. Bent, of Boston; Mrs. Vanderbeck and Mrs. Walton, of New York; and the woman in St. Louis, who gave bail for the rascally miner, who tried to dispose of the unset solitaires. Fortunately those have been proven to be mine and returned to me; but where are the rest of the stones? I will have them, every one," he concluded, in a tone so stern and menacing that the woman shivered afresh.
"They were all together—they were all yours except two; but the cross, we—we—"
Mrs. Montague proceeded thus far in a muffled, trembling tone, and then her voice utterly failed her.
"You did not dare to try to sell too many at one time, and so you reserved the cross for future use," Mr. Palmer supplemented. "Perhaps you even intended to wear it under my very eyes, among your wedding finery. I verily believe you are audacious enough to do so; but, madame, it will be safe to say that there will be no wedding now, at least between you and me."
The man turned abruptly, as he ceased speaking, and left the room, looking fully a dozen years older than when, an hour previous, he had come there, with hope in his heart, to plan with his bride-elect how they could make their future home most attractive for her reception.
Ray felt a profound pity for his father, in this mortifying trial and disappointment, and he longed to follow him and express his sympathy; but his judgment told him that it would be better to leave him alone for a time; that his wounded pride could ill-brook any reference to his blighted hopes just then.
It may as well be related just here how Detective Rider happened to appear so opportunely, and how Mona found the robes in which Mrs. Montague had so successfully masqueraded to carry out her various swindling operations.
It will be remembered that Mona, after she had gathered up the keepsakes belonging to her mother and returned them to the table, had found another box upon the floor of Mrs. Montague's boudoir.
When she had removed the rubber band that held the cover in its place, her astonished eyes fell upon a pair of exquisite diamond crescents for the ears, and a cross, which, from the description which Ray had given her, she knew must have been among the articles stolen from Mr. Palmer.
Instantly it flashed across her what this discovery meant.
She felt very sure that Mrs. Montague must have been concerned in the swindling of Mr. Cutler, more than three years previous, and also of Mrs. Vanderbeck in Boston, besides in the more recent so-called Palmer robbery.
Still, there were circumstances connected with these operations that puzzled her.
Mrs. Bently, the crafty widow of Chicago, had been described to her as a stout woman with red hair. Mrs. Vanderbeck had also been somewhat portly, likewise Mrs. Walton, whom she had seen in St. Louis, and these latter were somewhat advanced in years also.
Mrs. Montague, on the contrary, was slight and sylph-like in figure; a blonde of the purest type, with light golden hair, a lovely complexion, with hardly the sign of a wrinkle on her handsome face.
But she did not speculate long upon these matters, for, having made this discovery, she was more anxious than before to be released from her place of confinement. So she had gone into the adjoining room, and tried the door leading into the hall.
That, too, as we know, she had found locked, and then, as she turned to retrace her steps, she was stricken spellbound by something which she saw upon the bed.
It was nothing less than a widow's costume, comprising a dress, bonnet, and vail, together with a wig of short, curling red hair!
Yes, Mrs. Montague was the "widow!" or woman in black whom Detective Rider had observed and followed only a little while previous. When she found that the man was on her track she had slipped into the carriage and ordered the driver to take her with all possible speed to a certain store on Broadway. Arriving there, she had simply passed in at one door and out of one opposite leading upon a side street, where she hailed a car, and, thoroughly alarmed, went directly home instead of going to the room where she usually made these changes in her costume.
Upon reaching her own door, she quietly let herself in with her latch-key, and going directly to her chamber, tore off her widow's weeds, and wig, and threw them hastily upon the bed. She hurriedly donned another dress, and was about to remove the cleverly simulated signs of age from her face, when she heard the bell ring, and went into the hall to ascertain who had called. We know the rest, how she recognized the lawyer, and imagined he had come again to annoy her further upon the subject of Mona Forester's child; how, almost at the same moment, she discovered Mona's presence in the house, and instantly resolved to lock her up until she could decide what further to do with her. And thus, laboring under so much excitement, she entirely forgot about the wrinkles and crow's-feet upon her face, and which so changed its expression.
The moment Mona saw the costume upon the bed everything was made plain to her mind. Mrs. Bently, of the Chicago and Boston crescent swindle, was no other than Mrs. Montague in a most ingenious disguise.
Glancing about the room for further evidences of the woman's cunning, she espied a trunk standing open at the foot of the bed, as if some one had been hastily examining the contents and forgotten to shut it afterward.
She approached it, and on top of the tray there lay the very dress of gray ladies' cloth which she had seen hanging in the closet of a certain room in the Southern Hotel in St. Louis. Then she knew, beyond a doubt, that Mrs. Montague had also figured as Mrs. Walton, the mother of the miner, in that city.
But who was the miner?
Louis Hamblin, in all probability, although she had not dreamed of such a thing until that moment.
"It is very strange that I should not have recognized Mrs. Montague, in spite of the white hair and the spotted lace vail," she murmured, thoughtfully. But after reflecting and recalling the fact that even the woman's eyebrows had been whitened and the whole expression of the face changed by pencil lines, to simulate wrinkles and furrows, and then covered with a thickly spotted vail, she did not wonder so much.
She was amazed and appalled by these discoveries, and trembling with excitement, she resolved to learn more, if possible.
She lifted the lid of the hat-box, at one end of the tray, and there lay the very bonnet and vail that the woman had worn in St. Louis, and also the wig of white hair.
"What a wretched creature!" she exclaimed, in a horrified tone. Then wondering if Ray might not have come, while she had been there, she flew back to the window in the other room to look for him.
Yes, his carriage was standing before the door, and he would soon find means to release her, she thought.
But moment after moment went by, and no one came, while the continuous murmur of voices in the room below made her wonder what was going on there.
Presently, however, her attention was attracted to a man who was sauntering slowly along the opposite sidewalk, and she was sure she had seen him somewhere before, although, just at first, she could not place him.
"Why!" she exclaimed, after studying his face and figure a moment, "it is Mr. Rider. Can it be possible that he suspects anything of the mystery concealed in this house? At any rate, he is just the man that is needed here at this time."
She tapped lightly on the pane to attract his attention.
He stopped, glanced up, and instantly recognized Mona, nodding and lifting his hat to indicate that he did so.
She beckoned him to cross the street, and then cautiously raised the window. He was beneath it in a moment.
"Come in, Mr. Rider, and come directly up stairs to me," she said, in a low tone. "I have been locked in this room, and I have made an important discovery which you ought to know immediately."
He nodded again, his keen eyes full of fire, turned, ascended the steps, and pulled the bell.
Mary sighed heavily as she bent her weary steps, for the fifth time, up the basement stairs to answer his imperative summons.
"Is your mistress at home?" Mr. Rider inquired, in a quick, business-like tone.
"Yes, sir; but she is engaged with callers," the girl replied.
"So much the better," returned the detective; then, bending a stern look on her, he continued: "I am an officer; I have business in this house; you are to let me in and say nothing to any one. Do you understand?"
Mary grew pale at this, and fell back a step or two from the door, frightened at the term "officer."
Mr. Rider took instant advantage of the situation and stepped within the hall.
"Don't dare to mention that I am here until I give you leave," he commanded, authoritatively, and then ran nimbly and quietly up stairs.
It was the work of but a moment to find the room where Mona was confined, turn the key, and enter.
"What does this mean, Miss Richards?" he asked, regarding her curiously.
"How do you happen to be locked up like a naughty child?"
"I will explain that to you by and by; but first let me show you these."
She uncovered the box which contained the crescents and cross, and held the gleaming diamonds before his astonished eyes.
The man was so utterly confounded by the unexpected sight that for a moment he gazed at them with a look of wonder on his face.
"Zounds! where did you get them?" he cried, breathlessly.
Mona briefly explained regarding the accident to the table, which had resulted in her discovering the secret compartment with its treasures.
"Clever! clever!" the man muttered, as his eyes fastened upon the table and he comprehended the truth. "Well, well, young lady, you've done a fine stroke of business this day, and no mistake! These are the real articles, no paste or sham to fool me this time," he added, as he lifted the crescents from the box. "But—when—Mrs. Richmond Montague!—who'd have thought it?"
"This isn't all, Mr. Rider," Mona continued, in a whisper, for she feared
Mrs. Montague might catch the sound of their voices.
"What! more discoveries!" the man exclaimed, all alert again, as he shut the box and slipped it into his pocket.
"Yes, step this way, if you please," and leading him to the door of Mrs.
Montague's chamber, she pointed at the costume lying upon the bed.
The quick eyes took it all in at a glance, and his face lighted with a swift flash of triumph.
"The Bently affair—the Vanderbeck swindle—the Palmer robbery! Clever! clever!" he muttered, as he seized the costume, shook out its folds, discovered the thick layers of padding about the waist and hips, and eyed it with intense satisfaction. Then he revealed two rows of firm, white teeth in a broad smile, as he snatched up and twirled that dainty red wig upon his hand, examining it with a critical and admiring eye.
"And this, also," continued Mona, going to the trunk and lifting from it the tailor-made costume of gray ladies' cloth.
"Aha! ha!" chuckled Mr. Rider. "Really, Miss Richards, if you were only a man we might make a right smart detective of you. This is the very dress we have been wanting, and here is the rent. Have you still the fragment that you showed me in St. Louis?"
"Yes, it is here in my purse," Mona answered, drawing it from her pocket, and, taking the piece of cloth from it, she handed it to him.
"Here, too, is the gray wig worn by Mrs. Walton," she went on, as she lifted the lid of the hat-box and revealed its contents.
"Yes; true enough! and I'll wager that this trunk contains some other disguises which we should recognize," he responded. "But," he added, "we have enough for our purpose just now, and we will defer further examination until later. Now, Miss Richards, I am going down stairs to confront that woman with this stolen property. You follow me, but remain in the hall until I give you a signal, then come forward with these disguises. Have you any idea who is below calling on her ladyship?" he asked, in conclusion.
"No; but I am very sure that Mr. Raymond Palmer is somewhere in the house, for he was to call for me, and his carriage is at the door."
"I am glad to know that," the man cried, "and now I will make quick work of this business."
He turned and left the room with a quick step, and going directly below entered the drawing-room, just as Mrs. Montague was rudely taunting Ray about Mona.
The young girl gathered up the various articles of clothing and followed him, and we know what occurred after that.