He spent a long time, after that, talking over business matters and looking over some of Mr. Dinsmore’s papers, and when at length he took his leave, Mona was really greatly comforted, and felt that she had found a true friend to rely upon in her loneliness.

CHAPTER VI.

A BOLD AND CUNNING SCHEME.

On the afternoon previous to Mr. Dinsmore’s death a woman of perhaps sixty years alighted from an elegant private carriage before the door of a fine residence on West ——­ street, in New York city.

She was simply but richly clad in heavy, lustrous black silk, and was a woman of fine appearance, although her face wore a look of deep sadness which seemed to indicate some hidden trouble or sorrow.

Her hair was almost white, but carefully arranged, and lay low upon her placid, but slightly wrinkled, brow in soft, silken waves that were very becoming to her.  Her complexion was unusually clear and fair for one of her years, although it might have been enhanced somewhat by the fine vail of white tulle which she wore over it.  She was tall and commanding in figure, a little inclined toward portliness, but every motion was replete with graceful dignity and high-bred repose.

After giving directions to her coachman to wait for her, she mounted the steps leading to the door, pausing for an instant to read the name, “R.  Wesselhoff, M.D.” engraved upon a silver plate, before ringing the bell.

A colored servant soon answered her call, and responded affirmatively to her inquiry if the noted physician was in, then ushered her into a small but elegantly appointed reception-room upon the right of the lofty hall.

Five minutes later an elderly and singularly prepossessing man entered and saluted his visitor in a gracious and respectful manner.

“Mrs. Walton, I suppose?” he remarked, just glancing at the card which she had given the servant.

The woman bowed, then observed, with a patient but pathetic sigh: 

“I have called, Doctor Wesselhoff, upon a very sad errand, and one which I trust you will regard as strictly confidential.”

“Certainly, madame; I so regard all communications made by my patients,” the gentleman courteously responded.

“I have a son,” madame resumed, “who has of late betrayed symptoms of the strangest mania, although he appears to be in perfect health in all other respects.  He imagines that some gigantic robbery has been committed; sometimes he declares that bonds to a large amount have been stolen, at other times it is money, then again that costly jewels have disappeared; but the strangest phase of his malady consists in the fact that he accuses me, and sometimes other members of the family, of being the thief, and insists that he must have me arrested.  This has gone on for some time, and I have been obliged to adopt every kind of device in order to keep him from carrying out his threats and thus creating a very uncomfortable scandal.  This morning he became more violent than usual, and I felt obliged to take some decided step in regard to proper treatment for him; therefore my visit to you.”