"You? What were you prowling about in my room for?" crossly demanded Mrs.
Montague.
"I was simply looking for a pair of scissors which I had left there the
day before we went South. But why did you lock me in the room, for I
suppose it was you?"
"Because I was desperate," was the defiant response. "I had just learned
how you had escaped from Louis, but I had not a thought of finding you
here. When I saw you in my room, however, a great fear came over me that
you would yet prove my ruin. I imagined that you had just arrived in New
York, and had come here to take away your things, and were perhaps
searching my room for proofs of your identity. So on the impulse of the
moment I locked you in, intending to make my own terms with you before
I let you go."
"Did you suppose, after my experience in New Orleans, that I would trust
myself with you without letting some one know where I could be found?"
Mona quietly asked.
"If I had stopped to think I might have known that you would not," the
woman said, sullenly. "But how did you get out of that hotel in Havana?"
"Mr. Justin Cutler assisted me."
Mrs. Montague flushed hotly at the mention of that name.
"Yes, I know, but how?" she said.
Mona briefly explained the manner of her escape, then inquired, in a
voice of grave reproach:
"How could you conspire against me in such a way? How could you aid your
nephew in so foul a wrong?"
"I have already told you--to make our fortunes secure," was the cool
retort.
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