“Oh, no, no,” exclaimed the woman.

“Then pay me the cash.”

“It is not convenient at present, but I will give you my note in exchange for the one you hold.”

“I cannot accept your note, madam.”

“You cannot accept my note?”

“No, madam.”

“I am surprised; do you fear non-payment?”

“I do.”

“Will you explain?”

“Certainly; I have received information that the baron has quite a number of notes out with your name on them and the name of your husband.”

The detective had struck the fatal blow; the woman wilted.

“You must have mercy on the young man,” she exclaimed.

“It is not in my way, madam, to show mercy. What I need is money my own money.”

“I will give you a note in double the amount.”

“But, madam, I could not accept your note, no, and now I would not accept your husband’s note, for I have information that you and the baron, your son, have so involved him that he will be a ruined man if he saves your honor and credit. I cannot stand to lose, but, madam, I will see you again. You will need time to think and time to confer with the baron. I will call again.”

The detective rose; the woman was really overwhelmed.

The Spaniard evidently knew the truth the whole truth knew that the baron was really her son. She did not bid the Spaniard to stay; she did need time to think, and she walked the floor in the agony of her thoughts. Then she rang for a messenger boy and sent a hurried note, and in the meantime she had prepared to go forth to the street veiled, and the detective, having worked a change, was at hand, and he fell to her “shadow,” and he muttered:

“This drama is approaching its end; the play is most over; the curtain will soon go down.”

The woman went to the very same hotel where she had met the baron once before. She did not enter the dining-room, but proceeded to a room. Jack was on hand. He had learned that the baron had secured a room in the hotel and had been living there for some days, and with his usual foresightedness the detective under a “cover” had secured a room in the same hotel, thinking that the time might come when he would desire to watch the baron and his visitors. He waited for the woman to enter the baron’s room and then quickly he entered the room he had secured.

Right here we desire to state that this securing of adjacent rooms when detectives are on a “lay” is a very common proceeding. It is done daily, it is being done to-day, and will be done in the future. It is indeed one of the most frequently adopted methods of the profession, and it is a common event also to place a detective as a pretended criminal in the same cell or the adjacent cell to a criminal, with a view to catch his mutterings awake or asleep, or to listen to conversations between the wretched man and his visitors.

Jack was all right; he wanted to learn facts and it was delightful to feel that he had run these schemers down to a point where he could listen to their mutual explanations.

The baron was in his room. This was a chance in the woman’s favor, and upon her appearance he exclaimed:

“You here?”

“Yes, I am here.”

The baron had gone to his room following his little chat with our hero. He had passed the time in a very uncomfortable manner, and of course the arrival of Mrs. Richards was a great surprise.

We wish to state one fact to our readers: Our hero could have “closed in” on the two schemers, but he was seeking certain facts which they could have withheld. He desired to know why they had taken such a sudden interest in Amalie Speir, why they had commenced to scheme and make it appear that the fair girl was dead. While seeking this information he was proceeding very slowly; he desired to gain it rather than attempt to force it, for in the latter attempt he might fail. He knew that neither Mrs. Speir nor her daughter knew the motive that is, so he had decided and his moves were intended, as stated, to gain information from the schemers themselves.

Mrs. Richards sat down; her face was pale and she was laboring under great excitement, as the baron observed the instant she entered the room. When she did gain sufficient composure she said:

“What have you been doing?”

“I do not understand.”

“That last acceptance

“You knew all about it; you knew we needed the money to cover another transaction.”

“But you have been trapped.”

“Trapped?” ejaculated the young man.

“Yes, trapped.”

“By whom?”

“This scoundrel Tavares.”

The baron almost fainted as he fell back on a sofa and gazed with starting eyes, and the woman proceeded and said:

“This man called upon me within an hour, and he knows all. He knows you are my son, he knows the acceptance is forged. Were you drunk? did you make a confidant of that man?”

“Give me time to think,” said the baron in a husky tone, and then after rising and drinking ice water from a goblet he asked:

“What does all this mean?”

“I tell you the Spaniard, Tavares, called upon me; he knows all.”

“Did he call alone?”

“He did.”

“How did he manage to convey his information to you?”

“He told me fact after fact with the utmost coolness and assurance.”

“And he spoke English?”

“He did.”

“Then I was rightly informed and we are in that man’s power yes, in his power absolutely.”

“You say you were rightly informed?”

“Yes.”

“What was your information?”

“I was informed that the man Tavares was a Shylock, a designing devil. You were right when you said I had been tricked.”

“And who was your informant?”

The baron proceeded and told the whole story, all the facts known to our readers, together with his recent meal with the detective who was his informant.

The woman listened attentively with a glitter in her eyes, and when the narrative had been concluded, she said:

“All is lost unless you can force matters, then we can legitimately raise all the money we need. Your wife can get all the money she desires, and at once.”

The detective’s blood ran cold. The words “your wife” were terrible in their suggestion.

“I can do better.”

“You can?”

“Yes.”

“What can you do?”

“Recover that note with the forged acceptance.”

“How?”

“I will invite that Spaniard to accompany me to some out-of-the-way place; I will overcome and force him to give up the note.”

“You mean you would commit murder?”

“No.”

“And you must not, my son. We have gone far enough in crime. I will never consent to the crime of murder.”

“We need not murder him, we can abduct him and keep him out of the way until our plans are completed.”

“Yes, we might do that if we could succeed, then we could force matters and let him loose later, even pay him an indemnity and return to Europe. My good husband would not object as long as it did not cost him anything.”

“We must do something, and we must act at once.”

“August, you are a brave and skillful man. Now you know the real danger you will be able to devise some plan, but no time must be lost; we must move rapidly. Let us get this immediate danger removed and we can bring the other matter about at once, but it is strange how obstinate and determined that girl is. There we must force matters, but I did hope that we would secure money enough to go to Europe. If we could carry her to Europe we would be all right. We could furnish proofs of her identity, secure the money, and all would be well, but she must first be your wife, and I repeat, if she does not consent, then I will assent to the plan you proposed. It is a terrible device, but she must be your wife, and that within forty-eight hours. If she does not yield we will force matters, and she will be glad to become the baroness.”

The mystery was indeed all clearing up, and the detective overheard every word of the conversation, and our readers can only imagine his emotions and excitement, as we will not attempt to describe either.