Dora in a bewildered way read aloud this sentence, which in big black
letters stared her in the face,--

"Smithson, alias Smith."

"Well, go on, go on; read what is underneath," urged Agnes, as Dora
stopped; and Dora went on and read,--

"It seems that that arch schemer and swindler Frank Smithson, who got
himself out of the country so successfully with his ill-gotten gains
from the Star Mining Company, has dropped the last syllable from his too
notorious name, and is now figuring in South America under the name of
Smith. His wife and young son are with him, and the three are living
luxuriously in the suburbs of Rio, where Smithson has rented a villa. An
older child, a daughter of fourteen or fifteen, was left behind in this
country with Smithson's brother's widow, who has also taken the name of
Smith. They are staying at a summer resort not far from Boston."

The bewildered look on Dora's face did not disappear as she came to the
end of this statement.

"What did you want me to read this for?" she asked Agnes.

"What did I want you to read it for? Is it possible that you don't
see,--that you don't understand?"

"Understand what? We don't know these Smithsons."

"But we do know these--Smiths."