e a confidential talk
with you."

Mrs. Frewen and the detective were in the rear sitting-room. The old
lady closed the door and said in a low tone:

"What I say to you is purely confidential."

"All right, madam."

"You captured the burglars?"

"I did."

"You saw their faces?"

"I did."

"Plainly enough to identify them in case you had known them?"

"Yes."

"Did you recognize any of them?"

"I recognized them all."

"You did?"

"I did."

"Well?"

"What is it you want to know?"

"Was _he_ among them?"

"Who?"

"The young man Alphonse Donetti?"

"No."

There came a disappointed look to the old lady's face and she said:

"I am sorry."

"You are sorry, madam."

"Yes, I am sorry."

"Why?"

"I have no confidence in that young man."

"Do you know that he is in New York?"

"I do not know, but I suspect that he is."

"And you wanted him captured as a burglar?"

"Yes."

"After he sent you the warning note?"

"Yes."

The detective was silent, but there came a curious expression to his
face.

"It may appear strange to you."

"Yes."

"I can trust you?"

"Yes."

"Yesterday I made a discovery, or rather you made one for me."

"I did?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"By the finding of that photograph in that album. I have long suspected
a certain fact, now I have evidence that there are grounds for my
suspicions."

"Will you speak plainly, madam?"

"I will."

"Do so."

"Again I ask, can I trust you?"

"You can."

"In a matter purely personal?"

"Yes."

"Then I will declare that I have reason to suspect that the rascal,
Alphonse Donetti, has fascinated my niece, and I fear the girl has been
deliberately deceiving me."

Our hero made no comment, and the old lady continued:

"At the terror of fearing that my own flesh and blood has been
fascinated by a thief--in my opinion a born thief--the son of a thief--a
low, vile, reckless scoundrel, yes, that is what I fear. It was this
suspicion that caused me to leave Paris. And now, Oscar Dunne, you can
make your fortune. I am a very rich woman; I can pay a great price. I
want you to aid me to save my niece, even if she is compelled to gaze on
the dead face of her lover."

"Madam, what do you mean? Can you believe that money will tempt me to
commit a murder?"

"No, sir, I am not a murderess, but I believe money will induce you to
bring a murderer to justice, and have him hung as he deserves."

"Well," thought the detective, "