n enigmas."

"And I believe I know just what I am talking about. There is a great
game being played; the game is an old one. The motive is something we
are not 'on to' yet, but we will uncover the whole business. But let me
impress upon you with the greatest earnestness that I know your daughter
lives."

"Then what does it mean?"

"You can accept my word that it is an attempt to prove that your
daughter is dead."

"Why should any one wish to prove that she is dead?"

"I think I can discern; I may be mistaken, but one fact is certain: some
very thrilling denouement is to follow in the end, but your daughter is
not dead, and you can judge how reliable is my statement when I say now
that I have only seen that newspaper paragraph, but in the end the most
startling evidence will be produced to make it appear that it is your
daughter, and it may be necessary that you should seem to accept the
evidence and hold a funeral over the body of a stranger. I repeat, a
great game is being played--has been played--but we will beat it. We
will catch these people in their own trap."

"But what can be their motive?"

The detective hesitated a moment and then said:

"We cannot now tell how these folks found out that your daughter is a
great heiress, your heir, for you are a very rich woman; and it is
possible that there may be people who are ready to step forward and
claim the estate which I hold as trustee."

We will again state that the detective held no such suspicion. He was
leading the mother astray for reasons that will be disclosed later on.
All he desired to do at the moment was to make it appear to Mrs. Speir
that his idea explained the true motive, but he knew better.

Two days later the predictions of the detective in a certain direction
were all singularly verified. The clothing and other incidents indicated
that the body found in the woods was that of Amalie Speir, and that the
lovely girl had committed suicide. There were proofs that she was young
and beautiful, and acting under the detective's advice Mrs. Speir
permitted it to be assumed that she recognized the dead girl. The
remains were brought to New York, taken to an undertaker's, and after
the usual preparation and ceremony, were buried from there, and our hero
was the only attendant who accompanied the unfortunate girl to the
grave, and that same night he held a long talk with Mrs. Speir. He said:

"They have played their last card now, but I cannot discer