use all her arts to conceal the truth; but I imagine, by using a little
strategy, we may get at it. Yes, Miss Montague, if we can only work it up
it will be a beautiful case--a _beautiful_ case," he concluded, with
singular enthusiasm.

Mona gave utterance to a sigh of relief. She was more hopeful than ever
that the mystery, which had so troubled her, would be solved, and she
was very grateful to the kind-hearted lawyer for the deep interest he
manifested in the matter.

"You are very good," she said, as she arose to take her leave; "but
really, as I have said before, I am not so anxious to secure property as
I am to know more about my parents. Do you suppose," she questioned, with
some anxiety, "that the enmity between my uncle and my father was so
bitter that--that Uncle Walter was in any way responsible for his--my
father's--death?"

"Poor child! have you had that terrible fear to contend against with all
your other troubles?" asked Mr. Corbin, in a tone of compassion. "No,
Miss Montague," he added, with grave positiveness, "I do not believe
that Walter Dinsmore--and I knew him well--ever willfully committed a
wrong against any human being. Now," he resumed, smiling, to see the look
of trouble fade out of her eyes at his assurance, "I am going to try to
ferret out the 'mystery' for you. Come to me again in a week, and I
believe I shall have something definite to tell you."

Mona thanked him, after which he shook hands cordially with her, and she
returned to West Forty-ninth street.

"Well, well!" muttered the lawyer, after his fair client had departed,