ith well-feigned surprise. "There were two going
to the same hotel, and she must be in the other. She is safe enough,
however, and it is too late for us to change now," he concluded, as the
vehicle started.

Mona was very uncomfortable, but she could not well help herself, and so
was obliged to curb her anxiety and impatience as best she could.

A ride of fifteen or twenty minutes brought them to the door of a large
and handsome hotel, where they alighted, and Louis, giving her bag and
wrap to the porter, who came bowing and smiling to receive them, told
Mona to follow him into the house while he looked after the trunks.

Without suspecting the truth, although she was sure she had never been
in that portion of the city before, the young girl obeyed, but as she
stepped within the handsomely lighted entrance, she was both confused
and alarmed by the fact that she could not understand a word of the
language that was being spoken around her, while she now observed that
the hotel had a strangely foreign air about it.

"There is something very wrong about this," she said to herself. "It
does not seem like New York at all, and I do not like the idea of Mrs.
Montague keeping herself so aloof from me. Even if she were sick, or
angry with me, she might at least have shown some interest in me. I do
not like Louis Hamblin's manner--he does not appear natural. I wish--oh,
I wish I had gone home by rail. I am sure this is not New York. I am
afraid there is something wrong."

She arose and walked about the room, into which the porter had shown her,
feeling very anxious and trembling with nervousness. It was very strange,
too, that Louis did not make his appearance.

Even while these thoughts occupied her mind he came into the room, and
Mona sprang toward him.

"What does this mean?" she demanded, confronting him with blazing eyes
and burning cheeks.

"What does what mean?" he asked, but his glance wavered before hers.

"This strange hotel--these foreign-looking, foreign-speaking people? Why
does not Mrs. Montague come to me? Everything is very mysterious, and I
want you to explain."

"Aunt Margie has gone to her room, and--" Louis began, ignoring every
other question.

"I do not believe it!" Mona interrupted, with a sinking heart, as the
truth began to dawn upon her. "I have not seen her since we left New
Orleans. I have seen only you. There is some premeditated deception
in all this. I do not believe that we are in New Y