"Madame—Mrs. Vander_beck_," with an intentional emphasis on the last syllable, "you are my prisoner!"
The woman gave a violent start as she caught the name, and darted a keen glance of inquiry at him, all of which Mr. Rider was quick to note.
Then she drew herself up haughtily.
"Sir, I do not know you, and my name is not Vander_beck_; you have made a mistake," she said, icily.
"I have made no mistake. You are the woman I have been looking for, for more than three years, whether you spell your name with a b, an h, or in a different way altogether; and I repeat—you are my prisoner."
Mr. Rider laid his hand firmly but respectfully on her arm, as he ceased speaking, to enforce his meaning.
She shook him off impatiently.
"What is the meaning of this strange proceeding?" she demanded, indignantly; then turning to the policeman who attended her, she continued, in a voice of command: "I appeal to you for protection against such insolence."
"How is this, Rider?" now inquired the officer, who recognized the detective, and was astonished beyond measure by this unexpected arrest.
"She has on her person diamonds that I have been looking for, for over three years, and I cannot afford to let them slip through my fingers after such a hunt as that," the detective quietly explained.