eems to baffle all my skill with its mystery.
Indeed, it bids fair to develop quite a romance."

"Indeed! you pique my curiosity, and we women are dear lovers of romance
in real life, you know," said the charming widow, with an arch smile.
"Would it be betraying confidence to tell me a little about it?" she
added, persuasively.

"Oh no; the matter is no secret, that I know of, and really you are so
cozy here," with an appreciative glance about the attractive room as he
resumed his seat, "I am tempted to stay and chat a while. I recently
received a communication from an English lawyer who desired to turn a
case over to me, as it related to American parties, and he had no time to
come here to look them up. A man who was on his way home from Australia,
was taken ill in London and died there; but before his death he made his
will, leaving all his property to a niece, although he did not know
whether she was living or not. All the information he could give
regarding her was her name, with the date and place of her birth. In case
she should not be living, her heirs are to inherit the money. I have made
every effort to find her--have been to the place where she was born--but
can get no trace of her--no one remembered such a person, and I could
not even learn whether she had ever married. I am afraid that the case
will prove to be a very complicated and vexatious one."

"I should think so," responded Mrs. Montague, who appeared to be deeply
interested in the story. "What was the girl's name?"

"Mona Forester."

"Mona Forester!" repeated the woman, in a startled tone, and growing as
white as her handkerchief. "I didn't know she had a relative in the
world, except--"

She abruptly paused, for she had been thrown entirely off her guard, and
had committed herself, just as the wily lawyer intended and suspected.

A flash of triumph gleamed in his eyes for an instant at the success of
his ruse.

"Ah! did you ever know of such a person?" he demanded, eagerly, and with
well-feigned surprise.

"I--I knew of--a girl by that name before I was married," Mrs. Montague
reluctantly admitted, and beginning to recover her composure.

"Where did she reside?"

"She was born in Trenton, New Jersey, I believe," was the evasive reply.

"Yes, my papers so state--and she must be the same person," said Mr.
Corbin, in a tone of conviction. "But that is very meager information.
Was Trenton your home also?"

"No, I lived in New York until