"Will you allow me to look at the register?" she asked of the gentlemanly clerk.
"Certainly," and with a bow and smile he placed it conveniently for her.
She thanked him, and glanced eagerly at the last name written on the page.
"J.R. Walton, Sydney, Australia," she read, in a coarse, irregular hand, as if the person writing it had been unaccustomed to the use of the pen.
Running her eye up the page, Mona also read, as if the name had been signed earlier in the day:
"Mrs. J.M. Walton, Brownsville, Mo."
"It would appear," mused Mona, as she left the office, "as if they are mother and son—that he had just returned from far Australia, and she had come here to meet him. But—I don't believe it! Walton—Walton! Where have I heard that name before?"
She could not place it, but she was so sure that these people were in some way connected with the Palmer robbery, she was determined to make an effort to establish the fact, and immediately leaving the hotel again, she sought the nearest telegraph office, and sent the following message to Ray:
"Send immediately piece of the ladies' cloth torn from dress."
This done she retraced her steps, and went directly up to her own room.