"Merrill said truly," he muttered, as he made his way through the crowd toward Ray; "she is certainly a very charming woman; I don't wonder that she is a favorite in society. Well, what is it, Ray, my boy?" he asked, as he reached his son's side. "Did you notice that woman who entered the room a moment or two ago?" the young man asked, in a low tone. "The one wearing so many diamonds?" "Yes; and, father, I believe there is some of our property about her." "I thought of it, too, Ray, but only because she wore so many stones, I suppose. We surely have no right to suspect her of being the thief," said Mr. Palmer, gravely. "Perhaps not; but I did, all the same." "She does not look at all like that Mrs. Vanderbeck," Mr. Palmer remarked, as he again singled out the woman, and observed her closely. "I don't know; her form is not unlike; and put a red wig on her, she might pass--" "Pshaw, Ray," interrupted his father, "you are letting your imagination run away with you; she cannot be the same person; her features are entirely different, and she is too stout." "Well, that may be; but I am impressed that some of those stones belong to us," Ray said, following the woman with a critical glance. "If any of them are ours, we have no means of identifying them," Mr. Palmer responded. "I have given them up as a dead loss, and do not believe that we shall ever discover the thief." Ray looked very sober. "I am very sore over that affair, father," he said, gravely. "If I had not allowed my head to be turned by that fascinating woman, I never should have lost them. She just smiled and talked all the sense out of me. I ought never to have removed my hand from that package, even to prevent a dozen tailor-made dresses from being torn, and then she could not have stolen it." "Don't grieve over it, Ray, for it will not avail," his father returned, kindly. "Experience is the best teacher, and no one will ever rob us in the same way again." "I do not think that is likely, and yet I cannot get over it; I cannot bear to consider the gems irretrievably lost, even yet." "You may as well, for I am sure we shall never see any of them again," said Mr. Palmer, calmly. "Who is this lady approaching us?" Ray asked, after a moment. "You were talking to her when I motioned to you." Mr. Palmer glanced up. "That is a Mrs. Montague--" "Montague!" interrupted Ray, in a startled tone. "Can she be anything to Mona?" "No, nothing. I asked the question upon learning her name," his father answered. Ray sighed heavily; then, as his glance still lingered upon the beautiful woman, he exclaimed: "Isn't she lovely? I believe she is the purest blonde I have ever seen. Her hair is like spun gold, her features are faultless, and her neck and arms are as perfect as if sculptured from marble." "Take care, Ray," said his father, with a sly smile; "people say that she is a perfect siren. I have myself been warned against her to-night."