The woman gave a start and also uttered an exclamation that was very significant under all the circumstances, and after an interval she added:

“This is all very strange.”

“Yes, it is all very strange.”

“How on earth any one could have learned about that fortune is a mystery to me.”

Here was an admission that made our hero almost start and utter an exclamation himself, and if the woman’s remark meant what he had reason to believe it did, once again had he given proof of his wonderful acuteness.

“It is not more wonderful, mother, than the way we found it out.”

Here was a second surprise for our hero. The baron had called the woman mother, and the woman, as our hero knew, was Mrs. Richards.

“Something must be done at once, Mrs. Richards.”

“What can we do but wait? The girl is buried; they can never secure any evidence, and in case they do finally it will be too late.”

“You know this detective?”

“I do.”

“Very well, I must have time to think; I wish he were a gentleman.”

“Why?”

“Then we could dispose of him.”

The detective was getting a heap of information, but the information only complicated the affair; but he had learned enough to make him feel that he could carry the most pleasant assurances to Mrs. Speir.

The baron and the woman talked for some little time longer, but their words conveyed no further positive information, and finally they separated; and when once alone our hero had several problems to meditate over. In the first place Mrs. Richards was not a German woman and yet the baron had called her mother. Here was a mystery to solve. Jack did visit Mrs. Speir and told her to be hopeful ay, more than hopeful but he did not state the evidence on which his cheering words were founded, but he set to work to investigate the Richards family. He learned in good time that Mr. Richards was a well-known business man and a very good man as far as was known. Our hero’s informant, however, shook his head when he came to speak of Mrs. Richards, and Jack asked:

“Was the lady ever married before she became the wife of Mr. Richards?”

The party questioned did not immediately answer. Jack pressed his question, and the party asked:

“Why do you wish to know?”

“I have vital reasons.”

The gentleman whom our hero was questioning was a lawyer, a very shrewd man, who had the reputation of not being overscrupulous, but there were reasons why he desired to oblige our hero, and after a moment he said:

“You will not use my information?”

“Not in any way to involve you.”

“My communication,” said the lawyer, “is confidential?”

“Certainly.”

“She was married to a German who claimed to be a baron. He was a worthless fellow; he may be living yet, but her husband, Mr. Richards, does not know of her previous marriage. The younger children are his children.”

“There is a young man who is on very intimate terms with Mrs. Richards,” said our hero, “known as August Wagner.”

The lawyer made no remark and the detective asked:

“What do you know about him?”

“See here, I am getting into deep water.”

“How?”

“You are up to something.”

“I am, and if you do not give me the information I seek I shall look for it elsewhere. I think, however, you are bound to aid me.”

“That young man, August Wagner, is her son by a former marriage. She pretends he is only a friend; her husband does not suspect the relationship.”

Here was a bit of news that was very important and explained certain seeming perplexities. In the first place the woman had at times shown excellent feeling toward the baron, and then again she had apparently maligned him. Jack could see now the occasion it was done to blind Mr. Richards. The woman was playing a double game.

“What have you to say concerning Mrs. Richards? Come, be open and frank with me.”

“She is a very ambitious woman; her husband is a man of comparatively moderate means. She has spent a great deal of time in Europe. She was living too fast for her husband, and he made her return to New York, and she is now leading him beyond his means. Yes, she is socially very ambitious, not here in America, but abroad. To tell the truth, I do not believe her first husband is dead. She is leading a double life. She may not be so much to blame, for I have heard that her first husband was, or is, a contemptible fellow. She once had money in her own right, but the baron squandered it all. Her son has lived most of his time in Germany, and fortunately there is no family resemblance to betray the relationship. The son resembles the father; is essentially German in appearance, but he inherits from his mother a pretty bright intellect. He is a shrewd fellow; his mother supports him clandestinely, and I reckon he costs her a good round sum.” The lawyer here lowered his voice and said: “In fact, the woman has put herself in jeopardy by several criminal transactions in connection with her son. They are carrying forged notes, and at any time there may come an explosion and disclosure.”

“Do you think she would commit actual crime?”

“I do not think that she is a criminal by nature, but extravagance leads to criminal acts, and when one commits one crime they are often driven to commit others.”

“You are right; but this family have come into considerable prominence lately owing to the tragedy connected with the young lady who was governess in their family.”

“Ah! I see that is the part of it you are investigating?”

“Well, yes.”

“I reckon that is all straight enough in one way.”

“In one way?”

“Yes.”

“What way do you mean?”

“The girl committed suicide.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, and the evidence proves it.”

“Yes, I know, but why should she be driven to suicide?”

The lawyer remained silent.

“Come, you have an idea,” said our hero.

“I may have an idea, yes, but that’s all.”

“What is your idea?”

“I am perfectly willing to give you facts; I have no right to advance my suspicions. I may be wrong.”

“I can tell you what you suspect.”

“No doubt.”

“You think the young baron had something to do with the girl’s death.”

“I understand she was young and handsome. He is young and handsome; it is probable that he may have had indirectly something to do with her death. I know one thing his mother would never permit him to marry the girl. She is playing him off for a baron and seeks to marry him to a rich wife. I believe she will succeed. It will be fortunate for her and her son also if they succeed indeed, certain matters are being held back in that contingency, that I know.”

The detective had made great advances and he determined to work a great game, and within a few days he made the acquaintance of August Wagner under the disguise of the rich Spaniard, and as they both spoke French there was little trouble in their intercourse. Jack played his cards well, made a great display of money, and one day he advanced matters to a crisis. He had forced the lawyer to furnish him further details concerning the money transactions of the baron and his mother, and set matters in motion so that it became necessary for the baron to have some ready cash. Well, very well and skillfully had Jack played his game, and one day he and the baron were at dinner. The baron was being fooled and he had not worked the same game on the Spaniard that he had worked on the detective. On the contrary, he pretended to be very rich and possessed of great sums of money; he even assumed to be richer than the baron. As stated, the crisis arrived; the baron and our hero were at dinner. The baron appeared to be greatly depressed, and the Spaniard observed it and said, speaking in French:

“My good friend, you do not appear to be in good spirits to-day?”

“I am not.”

“I am sorry; I wish I could do something to cheer you up.”

“My remittance failed to come.”

“Aha! that is nothing.”

“Not materially, and yet I am very much inconvenienced.”

“Indeed; possibly I can come to your rescue.”

“I would not dream of letting you do so.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, no.”

“But it would be a pleasure.”

“Really?”

“Why, certainly.”

“I cannot borrow from you, but if you would accept a draft on Berlin

“Why not?”

“For quite a sum?”

“Why not, if the draft is good?”

“I have a friend, a very rich gentleman, who has dealings with my banker in Berlin; he will make a draft for me. His name is Richards, a well-known business man here in New York.”

“My friend, you will offend me if you go into details. No, no, it is not necessary. Have you the draft?”

“Not with me; I can get it.”

“Ah, yes; but, my dear baron, you will indorse it?”

“I will, certainly.”

“That is fine. I care not who makes the draft, your indorsement is sufficient for me.”

“Have you such confidence in me?”

“Why not?”

“Then we may do better.”

“Any way.”

“I will get a draft accepted by my friend here in New York; I will indorse it and I will take care of it.”

“Any way, my dear friend; I am only too glad to be of service to you.”

“You are very kind.”

“Why not are we not good friends. And I have not many friends in New York. How much will you need?”

“Two thousand dollars.”

“You shall have it at once indeed, I feel ashamed to accept your note, but you see I must do so merely as a matter of business, that is all. If the amount were less I’d not permit you to give me the draft on your good friend. Let me see, what is the name did you say Richards?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, I see; he will accept the draft payable in sixty days. Ah, that is it; and you will make the draft?”

“Yes.”

“Good, very good; the money is ready for you any time. I am so glad to oblige you why not?”

The baron was an actor, but the detective was a better one, and it was agreed that they were to meet the following morning, when our hero would have the money ready. Meantime, the detective as known to the baron had most singularly been in evidence even within three minutes after parting from the Spaniard. The baron met the detective, or rather he thought he did, but alas! it was just that part of the game where the twin brother of Jack, Gil, the excellent aid, came in. Of course Gil had his instructions well rehearsed, and he played his part with splendid address and cuteness. The baron was being outmaneuvered in every direction, while thinking that he was playing a winning hand.

On the morning following the incidents recorded the baron met the Spaniard, and strange to say, only a minute previously he had met the detective. Jack had the money all right, “why not?” and the baron had the draft, and in the presence of the detective he indorsed it. We may add in the presence of Gil also, for our hero had so arranged his plans that his brother was a witness, and after the money had been paid over and Jack had the draft in his possession, he invited the baron to breakfast with him. The baron was in high glee, excused himself, but said he would meet Jack and have lunch with him.

Our hero sauntered over to the elegant home of Mrs. Speir. The latter had suffered the most intense agony during all this time, and it had preyed upon her health. Our hero had learned that Mrs. Speir was a very lovely woman, and well fitted to adorn a mansion. On the occasion when Jack appeared he found Mrs. Speir seated in her library. There were tears in her eyes, and as the detective entered a photograph slid off her lap and fell to the floor. The detective leaped forward to restore it, and as he raised it from the floor he caught a glimpse of the face, and he stood gazing in rapt and intense admiration.

“I did not mean that you should see that,” said Mrs. Speir.

“You did not mean me to see it?”

“Not at present.”

“But I have seen it.”

“I cannot help it.”

“One question: Whose portrait is that?”

“It is a portrait of Amalie.”

“Your child?”

“Yes.”

“She is indeed a beautiful girl,” came the declaration.