There came a look of pride through the glittering tears as the mother responded:

“Yes, she was a beautiful girl, but alas! I fear her beauty has proved her ruin.”

“Madam, you can dismiss that fear; I have set in motion a series of tricks which will enable me, I am assured, to restore your daughter to your love and arms unharmed.”

“Alas! I wish I could share your hopefulness; I cannot. You are a noble man, you have proved it, and more, you have proved that you are one of the most honorable of men. I am grateful, but I am hopeless. If my daughter were alive, as you say, she would come to me.”

“There is no doubt, madam, that your daughter is restrained of her liberty or she would come, but mark my words: within one week I will bring her to you unharmed. I cannot tell you now all I have learned, but you can accept my word; I will make good my promise.”

When our hero left the presence of Mrs. Speir, wild, strange hopes were surging in his heart. He had never given much thought to ladies, beautiful or otherwise, only as they were a part of his duties, but when he had once gazed upon the face of the beautiful Amalie Speir there came a great change over him. There was something in the expression of her face, so bright and intelligent, so different from any face he had ever gazed upon.

We have often said, and we declare again, that beautiful faces are no rarity in America. One cannot walk the streets or even enter a public conveyance without being able to pass the time watching a beautiful face, and the types of beauty to be met with are varied, but not as varied as the expressions. It is the expressiveness of a face after all that constitutes its beauty, and among our girls who are compelled to earn their livelihood in factories and offices, one will behold faces delicate and features classically beautiful. The anxieties attending daily toil do not destroy their beauty, and some of these girls have features that light up with expressions wondrously charming, and here also the types are varied, and it is wonderful how an impression will sometimes be mutually made. This is what is commonly called “love at first sight,” and it is not an uncommon experience. It does seem as though some souls were born as one.

We will not attempt to analyze the feelings of our hero, Jack, the detective. He was young, well educated, well-to-do, and talented, besides he possessed one of the grandest physical structures that every held a human heart, and again, strangely enough, under all the circumstances, he was not only an honorable man but a young man animated with the kindliest feelings. His great physical strength did not make him an aggressor, but a protector.

All along he had had a strong motive in solving the mystery of Amalie’s disappearance, but after having seen her portrait his previous interest become wildly enthused, and he clinched his fist and muttered:

“If any harm has come to that fair girl, woe to the man or woman who has harmed her, that is all I’ve got to say.”

As intimated, Jack had carried out a very cunning scheme, and on the day following his securing of the note he met the young man August Wagner. He met him under the rôle of the detective, invited him to dine with him, and together the two young man entered a well-known cafe. They were seated at a table, when lo, the Spaniard entered. Here again our hero had utilized his double, his twin brother Gil, and so well was Gil gotten up as the Spaniard that the most intimate friend of the disguised men would have failed to discover the “transform.”

These brothers had a way of destroying their resemblance for the time being, and at the moment there was no observable resemblance between them. Jack had appeared as Jack in one way when he assumed the rôle of the Spaniard. He traveled under the name of Tavares, and as his brother Gil entered the baron leaped up and made to go toward him, but Gil, having his cue, turned suddenly and walked out, giving the baron no opportunity to address him. As the latter resumed his seat Jack said:

“Do you know that man?”

“Yes, he is my intimate friend.”

“Your intimate friend?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t let any one know it.”

“Don’t let any one know it?” repeated the baron, in a tone of surprise.

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”

“You know his character, don’t you?”

“He is a young Spanish millionaire.”

“A what?”

“A young Spanish millionaire.”

“Hello, has he played you?”

“Played me?” repeated the baron.

“That is what I said.”

“But I do not understand you.”

“That man is the biggest fraud and pretense in New York one of the most dangerous men to have any dealings with in the United States. If you have met him take my advice and do not keep up the acquaintance. When that man makes your acquaintance he has a design every time.”

The baron glared and turned pale very pale and finally asked:

“Are you sure?”

“I am sure. Why, has he worked you?”

“Oh, no, but I am surprised.”

“He is a terrible man.”

“He was introduced to me, as I said, as a Spanish millionaire.”

“He is a Spanish Shylock; he loans money, and he usually gets about two hundred per cent before he gets through. Why, I know a case where he got a lady to forge her husband’s name to a note, and as soon as he got the note he commenced to squeeze. He got all the woman’s jewels, all her money, all the real estate she held in her own name, then exposed her, and she committed suicide.”

The baron’s face became ghastly, and the detective asked:

“What is the matter? You look deathly pale.”

“The wine has turned against me.”

“But you haven’t drank any.”

“No, no, I’ve a sort of dizziness; I do not know what is the matter with me. But I am amazed at what you tell me; there must be some mistake.”

“No, there is no mistake.”

“The Spaniard cannot speak a word of English.”

“What?” ejaculated the detective.

“He cannot speak a word of English.”

“Bah! he can speak English, French, and German. He is a splendid linguist; he plays ignorance, that is all; it is a part of his design.”

The baron recalled the scene in the hotel cafe, and said:

“I know he can’t speak English.”

“How do you know?”

“It was through his inability to speak English that I became acquainted with him. He was in a cafe and could not make his wants known, and I went to his rescue.”

The detective laughed outright.

“Why do you laugh?”

“At the idea that he could not speak English. Why, my friend, it is evident he had some design on you. Look out for him, or take my advice and do not have anything to do with him, or he will make you a heap of trouble. I tell you he is a dangerous man; the next time you meet him sound him on the question of his knowledge of English. Suddenly say something comical to him, and then watch. You are shrewd; you will soon find out he can speak English, even better than yourself.”

Jack had set his fuse alight, and he started to work in another direction. He left the baron after a few more words of warning, and enjoyed seeing the young man writhe in terror.

Once on the street the detective smiled grimly and said:

“The miserable little conniver, I reckon I am drawing the strings very tight on him now, and soon I will make him drop to his knees and confess all.”

A little while following the scene we have described a gentleman appeared at the house of Mrs. Richards and sent in a card, intimating that his business was very urgent.

The lady sent back word she could not see any one until evening. The visitor would not accept this refusal to meet him, and sent such word as to cause the lady to have him invited inside, and after about half an hour’s wait Mrs. Richards appeared.

“Good-afternoon, madam, I am sorry to have insisted upon seeing you, but my business is very urgent.”

Jack spoke in broken English, and was gotten up as the Spaniard.

“Your name is Jones, I believe?”

“No, madam, my name is Tavares. I did not send you my own card for reasons which you will understand.”

At the mention of the name Tavares Mrs. Richards winced, and there came a pallor to her face. She was a fine-looking woman, commanding in face and figure, but she was a woman of wonderful shrewdness and self-control, and she asked:

“What may be your business with me?”

“You are acquainted, madam, with a young man named August Wagner? I believe he claims to be a baron.”

The woman spoke very slowly, as though measuring every word.

“I know the baron; I have befriended him.”

“Yes, madam, no doubt, and I fear he has taken advantage of your kindness.”

The woman trembled.

“Taken advantage of my kindness?”

“Yes, madam.”

“You must be mistaken.”

“I am not mistaken, and I thought I would come to you first yes, come to you before I saw him, because I know you are deeply interested in him.”

“Only in a general way.”

“Don’t say that, madam.”

“Why not?”

“Simply because the statement does not agree with information I have received.”

“What information have you received?”

“I have been informed that you are very deeply interested in the young man.”

“It is not true; I have sought to aid him, that is all.”

“Again, madam, I am sorry to hear you say that.”

“And again why?”

“Because I have been informed that you take a motherly interest in young Wagner.”

The woman’s face became ghastly.

“Who was your officious informant?”

“I am not at liberty to tell at present.”

“Will you tell me how young Wagner has taken advantage of my interest in him?”

“I will.”

“Do so.”

“He got me to cash a draft for him.”

“Dear me, is that all?”

“Yes, madam, that is all.”

“I know you will find the draft is good and will be paid.”

“You know it will be paid?”

“Yes; but why did you come to me?”

“The draft purports to have been accepted by your husband.”

The woman still maintained her coolness, and said:

“Then my husband will pay it on maturity.”

“Oh, that would be all right, but I have received information which leads me to desire that your husband should acknowledge the acceptance as genuine.”

The woman began to break up, and she demanded in eager tones:

“Has my husband repudiated the acceptance?”

“Not yet, madam, simply because I have not presented the draft. I thought I would come to you first.”

“Do you believe the draft a forgery?”

“In fact, madam, I have the most positive evidence in that direction.”

The woman meditated a moment, and then said:

“This rash young man, can it be possible that in anticipation of remittances he has dared do this?”

“It so appears, madam.”

“I must save him. If it is a forged note my husband must not know it. Yes, poor young man, how I pity him! and I must save him, and I will save him.”

“That is good and kind of you, madam.”

“Yes, I will save him; I will accept the draft myself.”

“You are very kind, madam.”

“I cannot bear to see the young man humiliated.”

“You do not desire to see him humiliated?”

“I do not, I will not.”

“Then, madam, you must think of some other way of saving him, for your acceptance of the draft is not a sufficient security for me. Now if you will persuade your husband to acknowledge the acceptance that will save any humiliation.”