"If he was actually Ruth Mont's husband she would not have gone through a marriage ceremony with you, for she believed you to be White." "What are you saying?" stammered the confused Ryder. "Yes. That is the explanation, I feel sure. You say she picked out Pinewood for your honeymoon, saying something about the place reminding you both of old times. I should think that would have awakened you to some suspicion of the facts. But a man in love, I suppose, is accountable neither for his deeds nor his words. "It is plain, Mr. Ryder, that your wife and this White knew each other years ago. Perhaps they had not met since childhood. They have probably corresponded; but she could not have known much about his mature appearance. "She was waiting for him when you landed from the _Minnequago_. You thought she was I. How much we must look alike!" "Alike?" he murmured. "You are twins." "No; we are not twins," she corrected him with confidence. "But there is a reason why we should look and seem so much alike. "Now, see: You came to her on the dock, and your first question convinced her you were White. From what you tell me it seems that she was not sure of her own mind until she had seen you in the flesh. "What woman could be sure, when she had not met her lover for years? And," the woman's voice broke, but she went on bravely, "for your comfort, Mr. Ryder, let me tell you that I believe she must have fallen in love with you on that instant of meeting." John Ryder was silent. He was suddenly confronted with a second riddle, but he had no words in which to answer it. Had this woman, now talking to him so gently and impressively, been drawn toward him, too? What had his impetuosity done to her, as well as to himself? He could no longer selfishly feel that he was the only person injured by this tragedy of errors. "Then," Miss Mont continued, "the knowledge of what she had done--what a great mistake she had made--came to her with a suddenness that was enough to turn the woman's brain. She had thought herself in love all these years with one man, and had married another! "Put yourself in her place. Think what an opinion she holds of _you_. If your heart and brain have been seared by your trouble, think how she must feel. She cannot understand why you impersonated White. She is as much in the dark as you were. She must think you deliberately befooled her. She fled--not with White, I stake my life upon it!--but because she was so mentally disturbed that flight seemed the only course left her." "But the name--'Mrs. John B. White'--written in her own hand upon the trunk labels?" questioned the man. It was dark in the taxicab. The vehicle had stopped at the side door of Miss Mont's hotel and the chauffeur was impatiently waiting further orders or the alighting of his passengers. Ryder could not see Miss Mont's face.