ctions were founded on what Mr. Soloman Snivel had
told him, and that gentleman got what he knew of Anna's history from
George Mullholland. To this, however, he added what suggestions his
suspicions gave rise to. The similarity of likeness between Anna and
Madame Montford was striking; Madame Montford's mysterious searches and
inquiries for the woman Munday had something of deep import in them. Mag
Munday's strange disappearance from Charleston, and her previous
importuning for the old dress left in pawn with McArthur, were not to be
overlooked. These things taken together, and Mr. Snivel saw a case there
could be no mistaking. That case became stronger when his fashionable
friend engaged his services to trace out what had become of the woman
Mag Munday, and to further ascertain what the girl Anna Bonard knew of
her own history.

CHAPTER XIX.

A SECRET INTERVIEW.

While the scene we have related in the foregoing chapter was being
enacted, there might be seen pacing the great colonnade of the
Charleston hotel, the tall figure of a man wrapped in a massive talma.
Heedless of the throng of drinkers gathered in the spacious bar-room,
making the very air echo with their revelry, he pauses every few
moments, watches intently up and then down Meeting street, now
apparently contemplating the twinkling stars, then turning as if
disappointed, and resuming his sallies. "He will not come to night," he
mutters, as he pauses at the "Ladies' door," then turns and rings the
bell. The well-dressed and highly-perfumed servant who guards the door,
admits him with a scrutinizing eye. "Beg pardon," he says, with a
mechanical bow. He recognizes the stranger, bows, and motions his hands.
"Twice," continues the servant, "she has sent a messenger to inquire of
your coming." The figure in the talma answers with a bow, slips
something into the hand of the servant, passes softly up the great
stairs, and is soon lost to sight. In another minute he enters, without
knocking, a spacious parlor, decorated and furnished most sumptuously.
"How impatiently I have waited your coming," whispers, cautiously, a
richly-dressed lady, as she rises from a velvet covered lounge, on which
she had reclined, and extends her hand to welcome him.

"Madame, your most obedient," returns the man, bowing and holding her
delicate hand in his. "You have something of importance,--something to
relieve my mind?" she inquires, watching his lips, trembling, and in
an