THE WOMAN IN BLACK.
For a moment Mona was too much astonished to even try to account for such
a strange proceeding.
Then it occurred to her that Mrs. Montague must have returned before she
was expected, let herself into the house with her latch-key, and coming
quietly up stairs, had been taken by surprise to find her in her room,
when she had supposed her to be safely out of her way in Havana, and so
had made a prisoner of her by locking her in the boudoir.
At first Mona was somewhat appalled by her situation; then a calm smile
of scorn for her enemy wreathed her lips, for she was sure that Ray would
soon return. She had only to watch for him at the window, inform him of
what had occurred the moment he drove to the door, and he would have her
immediately released.
With this thought in her mind, she approached the window to see if he had
not already arrived.
The curtain was down, and she attempted to raise it, when, the spring
having been wound too tightly, it flew up with such a force as to throw
the fixture from its socket, and the whole thing came crashing down
upon her.
She sprang aside to avoid receiving it in her face, and in doing so
nearly upset a small table that was standing before the window.
It was the table having in it the secret treasures which we have already
seen. She managed to catch it, however, and saved the heavy marble top
from falling to the floor by receiving it in her lap, and sinking down
with it.
But while doing this, the broken lid to the secret compartment flew off,
and some of its contents were scattered over her.
Mona was so startled by what she had done, that she was almost faint
from fright, but she soon assured herself that no real damage had
occurred--the most she had been guilty of was the discovery of some
secret treasure which Mrs. Montague possessed.
She began to gather them up with the intention of replacing them in their
hiding-place--the beautiful point-lace fan, which we have seen before, a
box containing some lovely jewels of pearls and diamonds, and a package
of letters.
"Ha!" Mona exclaimed, with a quick, in-drawn breath, as she picked these
up, and read the superscription on the uppermost envelope, "'Miss Mona
Forester!' Can it be that these things belonged to my mother? And this
picture! Oh, yes, it must be the very one that Louis Hamblin told me
about--a picture of my father painted on ivory and set in a costly frame
embellished with rubies!"
She bent over the portrait, gazing long and earnestly upon it, studying
every feature of the handsome face, as if to impress them indelibly upon
her mind.
"So this represents my father as he looked when he married my mother,"
she said, with a sigh. "He was very handsome, but, oh, what a sad, sad
story it all was!"
She laid it down with an expression of keen pain on her young face and
began to look over the costly jewels, handling them with a tender and
reverent touch, while she saw that every one was marked with the name
of "Mona" on the setting.
"These also are mine, and I shall certainly claim them. How strange that
I should have found them thus!" she said, as she laid them carefully back
in the box. Then she arose and righting the table, replaced the various
things in the compartment.
In so doing she stepped upon a small box, which, until then, she had not
seen.
The cover was held in place by a narrow rubber band.
She removed it, lifted the lid, and instantly a startled cry burst from
her lips.
"Oh, what can it mean? what can it mean?" she exclaimed, losing all her
color, and trembling with excitement.
At that moment the hall-bell rang again, and Mona turned once more to the
window, now fully expecting to find that Ray had come.
No, another carriage stood before the door, but she could not see who had
rung the bell.
She wondered why Ray did not come; it was more than an hour since he went
away, and she began to fear that her captor was planning some fresh wrong
to her, and he might be detained until it would be too late to help her.
She was growing both anxious and nervous, and thought she would just slip
into Mrs. Montague's bedroom and see if she could not get out in that
way.
Suiting the action to the resolve, she hastened into the chamber, and
tried the door.
No, that was locked on the outside, and she knew that the woman must have
some evil purpose in thus making a prisoner of her.
She turned again to retrace her steps, that she might keep watch for Ray
at the window, when her eyes encountered an object lying upon the bed
which drove the color from her face, and held her rooted to the spot
where she stood!
* * * * *
About nine o'clock of that same morning, a woman might have been seen
walking swiftly down Murray street, in the direction of the Hudson River,
to the wharf occupied by the Fall River steamers.
She was tall and quite stout, but had a finely proportioned figure, and
she walked with a brisk, elastic tread, which betrayed great energy and
resolution.
She was dressed in deep mourning, her clothing being made of the finest
material, and fitting her perfectly.
A heavy crape vail covered her head and partially enveloped her figure,
effectually concealing her features, and yet a close observer would have
said that she had a lovely profile, and would have noticed, also, that
her hair was a decided red.
She appeared to be in a hurry, looking neither to the right nor left, nor
abating her pace in the least until she reached the dock where the Fall
River boat, Puritan, had but a little while previous poured forth
her freight of humanity and merchandise.
As she came opposite the gang-plank a low whistle caused her to look up.
A man stationed on the saloon deck, and evidently watching for some one,
made a signal, and with a nod of recognition, the woman passed on board
and up the stairs to the grand saloon, where a man met her and slipped a
key into her hand, then turned and walked away without uttering a word.
"Two hundred and one," she muttered, and walked deliberately down the
saloon glancing at the figures on the doors of the various staterooms
until she came to No. 201, when she unlocked it and went in.
Ten minutes later the man who had stood on deck as she came aboard,
followed her, entered the stateroom, and locked the door after him.
The two were closeted there for nearly an hour, when the woman in black
came out.
"I shall look for you at three precisely; do not fail me," said a low
voice from behind the door.
"I will not fail you; but keep yourself close," was the equally guarded
response, and then the heavily draped figure glided quickly down stairs
and off the boat.
She crossed West street, passed on to Chambers, and turned to walk toward
Broadway, passing, as she did so, a group of three or four men who were
standing at the corner.
One of them gave a slight start as her garments brushed by him, took a
step forward for a second look at her, then he quietly broke away from
the others, and followed her, about a dozen yards behind, up Chambers
street.
The woman did not appear to notice that she was being followed, for she
did not accelerate her speed in the least, nor seem to pay any heed to
what was going on about her. She kept straight on, as if her mind was
intent only upon her own business.
But all at once, as she reached the corner of Broadway, she slipped into
a carriage that stood waiting there, and was driven rapidly up town.
An angry exclamation burst from the man following her, who was none other
than Rider, the detective, and he hastened forward to catch another
glimpse of the carriage, if possible, before it should get out of sight.
He saw it in the distance, and hailing another, he gave chase as fast as
the crowded condition of the street would permit.
Some twenty minutes later he came upon the same carriage standing on
another corner, the driver as quiet and unconcerned as if he had not been
dodging vehicles at the risk of a smash-up, or urging his horses to a
lawless pace in that busy thoroughfare.
But the coach was empty.
Mr. Rider alighted and accosted the man.
"Where is the passenger that you had a few minutes ago?" he inquired.
The man pointed with his whip to a store near by, then relapsed into his
indolent and indifferent attitude.
Mr. Rider shook his head emphatically, to indicate his disbelief of this
pantomimic information, and muttered a few words not intended for polite
ears as he turned on his heel and moved away.
"Fooled again," he added, "and I thought I had her sure this time. Of
course she didn't go into that store any more than that other party went
from St. Louis to Chicago. But it's worth something to know that she is
in New York. I'll try to keep my eyes open this time."
In spite of his skepticism, however, he entered the store and sauntered
slowly through it, but without encountering any woman in black, having
red hair.
"She came off the Puritan," he mused, as he issued into the street again,
and turned his face up town. "I imagine that she either came on from Fall
River last night, or she is going back this afternoon. I'll hang round
there about the time the Puritan leaves. Meantime I'll take a stroll in
some of the upper tendom regions, for I'll bet she is a high-liver."
He boarded a car and was soon rolling up toward the more aristocratic
portion of the city, and thus we must leave him for a while.
When Ray returned to Mrs. Montague's residence for Mona, he found another
carriage waiting at the door, and it was just at this moment that Mona
made her strange discovery in the woman's bedroom.
"Mr. Corbin's carriage," Ray murmured to himself as he alighted and went
up the steps. "I wonder if Mr. Graves is with him, and if Mrs. Montague
has returned. I hope she has not made matters unpleasant for Mona."
He rang the bell and was admitted by Mary, who wondered how many more
times she would be obliged to run to the door that morning.
"Is Miss--Miss Richards through with her packing?" the young man
inquired, but having almost betrayed Mona's identity, which, in
accordance with the advice of the lawyers, they were not quite ready
to do yet.
"She's still up stairs, sir," the girl replied. "I'll step up and tell
her that you have come. Perhaps you'll wait in the reception-room, sir,
as Mrs. Montague has just come in and has callers in the drawing-room."
"Certainly," Ray answered, and was about to follow her thither, when he
heard his name spoken, and turning, saw Mr. Graves beckoning to him from
the doorway of the drawing-room.
"Come in here," he said; "we shall need you in this business," and Ray
knew that Mrs. Montague was about to be interviewed upon various matters
of importance.
"Very well," he replied, then turning to Mary, he added: "You may tell
Miss Richards that she need not hurry. I will call you again when I am
ready to go."
He then followed the lawyer into the drawing-room and the door was shut.
"There is something queer going on in there," she muttered. "Mrs.
Montague seemed all worked up over something, and those two men looked as
glum as parsons at a funeral. There is cook's bell again, and Miss Ruth
must wait," she concluded, impatiently, as a ring came up from the lower
regions, and then she went slowly and reluctantly down stairs again.