"Did you notice that woman who entered the room a moment or two ago?" the young man asked, in a low tone.
"The one wearing so many diamonds?"
"Yes; and, father, I believe there is some of our property about her."
"I thought of it, too, Ray, but only because she wore so many stones, I suppose. We surely have no right to suspect her of being the thief," said Mr. Palmer, gravely.
"Perhaps not; but I did, all the same."
"She does not look at all like that Mrs. Vanderbeck," Mr. Palmer remarked, as he again singled out the woman, and observed her closely.
"I don't know; her form is not unlike; and put a red wig on her, she might pass—"
"Pshaw, Ray," interrupted his father, "you are letting your imagination run away with you; she cannot be the same person; her features are entirely different, and she is too stout."
"Well, that may be; but I am impressed that some of those stones belong to us," Ray said, following the woman with a critical glance.
"If any of them are ours, we have no means of identifying them," Mr. Palmer responded. "I have given them up as a dead loss, and do not believe that we shall ever discover the thief."