He could not see her burning blush; he could not know of the tears flooding her eyes; he could only hear the tremor of her voice as she whispered: "My heart tells me, Mr. Ryder, that Ruth wrote those lines as soon as her trunks arrived at the hotel. It was her new name. She wished to see how it looked when she wrote it on the tags!" "Do you suppose that--all this you have told me--is the right explanation of this awful mystery?" "I believe so. If she has come to this city and is hiding from you, it is because she cannot imagine what manner of man would usurp another's name and place as you seem to have done." The tone that suddenly sounded in Ryder's voice could not be mistaken. "I'll have the whole police force hunting for her in the morning. I'll turn up the whole town to find her. Think of it! The poor child running away from _me_. When I love her so and am so sure she loves me----" Miss Mont stopped him. "I--I must leave you now," she said in a muffled voice. "No! don't get down. I do not need you. Let me know how you succeed." She was out of the taxicab instantly and without a backward glance ran hastily into the hotel. He did not see her face again; but Ryder knew she was struggling to keep back another tempest of weeping. He told the chauffeur where to drive him, and rode back downtown. After the storm of emotion of the last two hours his soul was strangely peaceful and he was even light-hearted. The contrast between the awful uncertainty of the riddle of his wife's actions and the confidence he now felt that Miss Mont's explanation was the only sane and reasonable explanation, was so great that Ruth's disappearance seemed at this moment a small matter indeed. Money and patience would find her, of course. Of the first he had plenty, thank heaven! The last he must cultivate as need be. A steeple clock boomed the hour of midnight. The third day of John Ryder's honeymoon was ended. CHAPTER XXIV NEMESIS With this better understanding of the exciting and brain-wracking incidents of these three days, John Ryder became again his sane and businesslike self. Before he reached his hotel he had evolved a plan for his future course relating to the woman he had married by mistake. Of course, this plan began with the discovery of her whereabouts. He must have some theory to work on. He could go to the police and ask them to send out a description of his wife and trust to luck that some sharp-eyed detective would see her. That, however, was a method which he abhorred. If Ruth had come to New York, or if she had gone elsewhere, John Ryder could think of just one way in which she might be traced. He was convinced now that she was not with White. Ryder had cast that unfortunate individual into the discard entirely. Miss Mont's explanation of the mystery that had involved them all was so clear that Ryder could no longer feel jealous of John B. White.