the contrary, she showed the utmost aversion to him, and it is possible that because of her aversion she has run away and hidden herself so as to escape his attentions, or it is possible he has persuaded her to elope with him. Her friends favor the latter idea."
"By her friends you mean the family with whom she resided?"
"Yes."
"They are favorable to the baron?"
"They appear to be, and strangely, since my daughter's disappearance they have turned against her."
"Against your daughter?"
"Yes."
"Where is the baron?"
"He is still a visitor at the Richards' home."
"Richards is the name of the family with whom you resided?"
"Yes."
"And they still entertain the baron?"
"Yes."
"Have you seen the baron?"
"I have."
"And what does he say?"
"He says he knows nothing about my daughter."
"And he claimed to have loved her?"
"Yes."
"Does he exhibit any sorrow or anxiety?"
"He does not, and this to me appears very significant."
The detective was thoughtful. He recognized that indeed the baron's sudden indifference was significant.
"He has not offered to aid you in finding her?"
"He has not."
"And the Richards family, do they exhibit any anxiety?"
"They do not."
"This baron is their intimate friend?"
"He appears to be."
"And they suggest that he knows where she is?"
"Not exactly; they merely declare that my daughter was not abducted, that wherever she is her absence is voluntary."
"And the Richards family appear to have turned against your daughter?"
"Yes."
"And previously they were very fond of her?"
"Yes, apparently."
"The apparent change has come since her disappearance?"
"Yes."
"Madam, I will undertake this case. What is your daughter's name?"
"Amalie Speir."
The detective gave a start, and we will here explain the cause. Amalie was the name of the heiress to the fortune which he at that moment held in trust. Ordinarily there would not be much significance in two persons having the same given name, but our hero was a man subject to wonderful discernments – a man who builded on the slightest incident – and from that instant he had more than an ordinary interest in the missing Amalie Speir, and that interest within a few hours was to grow into a thrilling intensity under later very singular coincident discoveries.
CHAPTER II
"And your name?" asked the detective, in an apparently indifferent tone.
"My name is Amalie Speir."
The detective repeated:
"Your name is Amalie?"
"Yes."
"Then your daughter is named after you?"
"Yes."
The detective tried to appear indifferent as he asked:
"What was your name, madam, before your marriage to Mr. Speir?"
"I do not know."
"You do not know?" repeated our hero.
"No; I was called Amalie, that is all I can remember. You see, sir, I most always have lived with strangers, and if my last name was ever mentioned in my hearing it was done so rarely that I never remembered it."
"Have you ever sought to find out what your name was previous to your marriage?"
"I have, but I have failed."
There was intense eagerness in the tones of our hero's voice despite his effort to conceal his interest when he asked:
"Madam, do you know your age?"
"Yes, to a day."
"How old are you?"
"I am forty-six sir, a little past."
"Do you know the date of your birth?"
"Yes, sir, I was born July 20, 18 – ."
The detective figured in his mind, and there came a strange gleam in his eyes as he said:
"Madam, you can count upon my services."
"May I ask, sir, why you are so interested in my age and my maiden name?"
"You may ask certainly, but I shall not answer your question at present. I may to-night; tell me where you reside and this evening I may call upon you and I may have some news of your daughter."
The woman gave her address and went away, and the moment the detective was alone he leaped up, and pacing rapidly to and fro across the room, muttered:
"Great Jerusalem! of all the strange, weird and remarkable incidents, this beats them all in its fateful significance. There is the little grave marked Amalie Canfield, died aged four years. Great ginger! here is a nameless Amalie who may have been older than the child Amalie Canfield."
We will here state to those of our readers who have not read Jack's former adventures as related in "Two Wonderful Detectives," that they will understand the detective's excitement as they proceed with the narrative.
Jack 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