did not waste much time in words. He left his rooms, also a note for his brother, his partner as a detective, and started for New Jersey. Fortunately, he caught a train, and an hour later alighted at a station, and rapidly he walked along the road for a couple of miles, when he arrived at a little graveyard. He entered the cemetery and almost ran to a little grave, and dropping down he fixed his eyes on the tombstone, and there he read:
The detective rose to his feet, his handsome face all aglow, and he again muttered:
"Here is a mystery – a little mystery – but it can be explained. One or the other Amalie died. It's my opinion Amalie Stevens lives, and after all I have at last found the heir to a million. I lose the fortune, but the true heiress will get it. Yes, I'll swear I am on to the final solution, the most successful shadow I shall ever make. It is the greatest catch of my life – yes, although I lose half a million, and I'd rather lose a million than to learn that I have been misled. I must go slow – yes, very slow – but as it stands I believe I've struck it at last."
The detective returned to New York, where he arrived early in the afternoon. He had a close friend, a very wealthy banker, for whom he had done a great service. He proceeded direct to the home of the banker, an old gentleman, but a man of great vigor considering his age, both mentally and physically.
"Hello, Mr. Wonderful," was the banker's salutation as our hero entered his presence. "Where did you come from? I have not seen you for several months."
"No, but I am here now."
"And your presence means that you have made another of your wonderful discoveries."
"I think I have."
"What is it."
"I believe I have found an heir to the Stevens' fortune."
"I thought you would some day, if there was a surviving heir."
"I believe there is, and I can put my hand on her at any moment."
"Who is the party?"
"Amalie Stevens."
The banker started, and exclaimed:
"I thought you had positive evidence of the child's death?"
"I thought I did, but, alas! it appears now that I was mistaken. I cannot tell yet, but I will know to-night, I will as sure as my name is Jack Alvarez."
Again we say to our readers the significance of the above conversation will be duly explained as our narrative proceeds.
Our hero returned to his lodgings. He had gained very important facts and he intended to justify them, and early in the evening he proceeded to a plain little house where the lady, Mrs. Amalie Speir, resided. He found Mrs. Speir awaiting his presence. He was led into a neatly furnished room, and taking a seat spoke about some everyday matter, but his keen, restless eyes were wandering about that room. He was a man of marvelous quick perceptions, and he discerned that no matter what had been the early surroundings of the woman who lived in those rooms, her natural tastes were those of a lady.
"You were to bring me news of my daughter."
"News for your daughter," corrected our hero, and after a moment he added: "Madam, it is possible I have a very remarkable revelation to make to you; it is possible that a strange fate brought us together."
"I care only for my daughter, sir. If you have anything to communicate that concerns my daughter proceed, otherwise I am too distracted to discuss any other matter."
"I desire to ask you a number of questions concerning yourself, and it is possible that these questions may concern your daughter more intimately than you suspect. I ask you to listen to me patiently, and answer my questions calmly and truthfully as far as your memory will permit."
"Let me ask, have you made any discoveries concerning my daughter?"
"As yet, no, but I propose to begin my quest to solve the mystery of her disappearance this very night. I will tell you frankly, I do not believe you have anything terrible to dread as concerns your child."
"On what do you found your belief?"
"On the facts that you have revealed to me. Of course I cannot say anything positive at present; by to-morrow I may give you a more decided opinion, but I desire now to talk about a matter which under any circumstances is very important – yes, important to you and to your daughter also – if no real disaster has overtaken her. I believe and trust she is alive and well. I found my belief on evidences that I cannot make plain to you; and now answer me. Madam, is there no name that is familiar to you, no name that awakens memories when you hear it?"
"I cannot recall that there is."
"Have you any suspicion why you were named Amalie?"
The woman did not make an immediate reply.
Jack saw that he was making headway, and said:
"Did you ever hear the name Canfield?"
"I cannot recall that I ever did."
"Let me see, did you ever hear the name Amalie Stevens?"
The woman turned deathly pale, and after a moment in a trembling tone asked:
"Why do you mention that name?"
"Never mind, answer me."
"Yes, I know something about the name Amalie Stevens."
"What do you know?"
"Answer me first: Have you any reason to believe that you know anything about a person named Amalie Stevens?"
"I may."
The woman meditated a long time and said:
"Wait a moment; I have perfect confidence in you; I will show you something."
Mrs. Speir left the room, but in a few minutes returned, bringing with her a little garment, age stained, but otherwise perfect. She held the garment up to the light and pointed to a letter mark. The marks were fine – very fine – but the detective had his glass with him. He subjected the letters to inspection and plainly made out the two letters A. S., and there shot a thrill through his frame, while the woman watched him with eager eyes, and she said:
"I never heard the name Stevens, but when you mentioned the combination Amalie Stevens, I remembered the letters on this little garment. I have often studied over them; for, sir, since matters have gone so far, I will say that I have always felt that there was a mystery in my life which would never be cleared up."
"Who wore this garment?" asked Jack.
"I did."
It was the detective's turn to become thoughtful. He had made a most extraordinary discovery – indeed, in his own mind he had found an heir to millions in this modest and hitherto unfortunate woman. Jack meditated for a long time, and Mrs. Speir at length asked:
"Will you tell me, sir, what this all means? I know you are not wasting time. You know or suspect something. Is it possible that after all these years I am to learn who my parents were?"
The woman spoke in the plural,
