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'^prns w?TOBSUS, MUM April, ISSU. " " ~~ ~~ ~ " "Be Just and Fear not-Let all the Ends thou Aim? at. be thy Country's, thy God's and Truth's - . ' '_ T?* ran SOCTHBOX, ?um** J.-., 186? . Consolidated Aug. 2, 1881.1 SUMTER, S. C., WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 18, 188a_New Series-Tol. YU. No. 23. C|e-IU?Hlc|?it?nt w? ?ppnt BY N. Gr-. OSTEfiN, SUMTlfiR, S. C. TERMS: T\ro "Dollars per annum-ra ?dva?ce. ADTSSTISEMB?TS. Que Square, Srst insertion..$1 00 Every subsequent insertion.- 50 Contracts for three months, or longer will bo Brade at reduced rates. $ : AH communication? which snbserve private interests will be charged for as advertisements. Ofcitcaries and tributes of respect will be charged for. Absolutely Pure. i This powder never varies. A marvel of j purity, strength and wholesomeness. More economical than the ordinary kinds, and can? not be sold in competition with the multitude of low test, short weight, alum or phosphate powders. Sold only in cans. ROYAL BAK-. ING POWDER CO., 106 Wail-st., N. Y. SPEI'I ii. mm. See our $8.00 and ?10.00 Cloaks, reduced to $5.00. AU Wool Flannel Dresses 22 to 54 anches, at greatly reduced prices. Temmings to suit. AU our best Calicoes, form? erly at Tc, now reduced to 5c.-; these not only in Fancies, but in hest Black and Mourning styles. Ladies7 Linen Collars at 60c. a dozen. Do not forget to see KSUT Dress Clasps, 10c. to 25c, worth .50 and 75. Hamburg Edgings, 5 and 10, worth 10 and 15c Breakfast Shawls at 15 cts. Dona fail to look at our Kemnat)t Basket. Do you wan7t a Bustle ? All 'styles to be had here. - Jerseys from 50c. to $3.00. Full Line of ?01?, Maie? ai Meir. Will close out our i:all Wool Dean Suits*7 at $9.00 ; price at l>egmning of season was ?12.00. Youths7 of same at $7.00. Big reduction in Overcoats ; try them on. All CLOTHING going at greatly reduced prices. Nice Hats, and oh, how Low ? OOH SHOE DEPARTMENT Is full of Bargains. We have Shoes that will do you some .service. These ^oods must be sold, so -we have marked them down WAY BELOW VALU] Just marked down, an Ele? gant lot of Ladies Shoes, from $2.50 to $1.99. This is not a .chestnut. We have lots of other Bar? gains in ALL Departments, in? cluding GROCERY, but our space forbids further details. Before you buy be sure and get the prices from ALTA10?T MOSES. N. E. Cor. Main and Liberty Sts. Nov. 16 F. H. Folsom. JL- W. Folsom. ?. H. FOLSGH & BRO., Establish d in 1868. CG ci co * JMCEBICAK WATCHZS, CL0C2S, .STERLING SILVER and PLATED WARE, ! Jewelry, Optical Goods, Gold Feo? Pencils, Machine Needles, &c. ? Repairing promptly dor:e and warranted by ! practical workmen. Orders from the country will receive our j careful attention. Try us. Nov 9 o .miC O? Bracon Ale tn Philadelphia M? WT?Yt * * ?ON? oar author!**! weat* 3y "WILKIE COLLINS. THE roritTH PAKT. . CONTINUED, i CHAPTER XXV. The ?by had advanced to evening. Lord Montbarry and the bridal party had gone to the opera. Agnes alone, pleading the excuse of fatigue, remained at the hotel. Having kept ? np appearances by accompanying bis friends to the theatre, Henry Westwick slipped away after the' first act and joined Agnes in the drawing room. "Have yon thought of what I said to you earlier in the day?" he asked, taking a chair at her side. "Do you agree with me that one dreadful doubt which oppressed us both is at least set at rest?' Agnes shook her head sadly. "I wish I could agree with you-, Henry-I wish I could honestly say that my mind is at ease." The answer would have discouraged most men. Henry's patience (where Agnes was concerned) was equal to any demands on iL "If you will only look back at the events of the day," he said, "you must surely admit that we hxve not been completely baffled. Remember how Dr. Bruno disposed of our doubts: A After thirty years of medical prac? tice, do you think I am likely to mistake the symptoms of death by bronchitis? If ever taere was an unanswerable question, there it is. Was the consul's testimony doubtful in any part of it? He called at th? palace to offer his services, after hearing of Lord ilont barry's death; he arrived at the time when the coffin was in the house; he himself saw the corpse placed in it, and the lid screwed down. The evidence of the priest was equally j beyond dispute. He remained in the room j wlih tho coffin, reciting the prayers for the j dead, until the funeral left the palace. Bear j ali these statements in mind, Agnes; and how j can you deny that the question of Montbar- j ry's death and burial is a question set at rest? j We have really but one doubt left; we have ? still to ask ourselves whether the remains j which I discovered are the remains of the j iost courir or not There is tho case as I un- I derstand it, Have I stated it fairly V Agnes could not deny that bo had stated it ?airly *. "Thea wbat prevents you from experienc- j ing tho same sense of relief that I feel?" . Henry asked. "What I saw last night preven ts me," Agnes answered. "IVhen you spoke of this subject, after our inquiries were over, you reproached me with taking, what you called, the super? stitious view. I don't quite admit that-but I do acknowledge that I should find the super? stitious view intelligible if I beard it ex? pressed roy some other person. Remembering 'what your brother and I once were to each other in the bygone time, I can understand the apparition making itself visible to me, to .claim the mercy-of Christian burial and the vengeance due to a crime. I can -even per? ceive some faint possibility of truth in the ex? planation which you described as the mes? meric theory-that what I saw might bo the result cf magnetic influence communicated to me as I lay between the remains of the murdered husband above me and the guilt}' wife suffering the tortures of remorse at my bedside. But what I do not understand is, ? .that I should have passed through that dread- j ful ordeal, naving no previous knowledge of j .the murdered man in his lifetime, or only j knowing Lim (LE you suppose that ? saw the j apparition of Ferrari) through the interest \ which I took ia his wife. I can't dispute your reasoning, Henry. But I feel in my heart of hearts that you are deceived. Noth? ing will shake my belief that we are still as far from having discovered the dreadful truth as ever." Henry made ne further attempt to dispute with her. She had impressed him with a cer? tain reluctant respect for her own opinion in spite of hiaiseif. "Have you thought of any better way of arriving at tho truth?' he asked. ~Who is to help 'Us' 2Sb doubt there is the countess, who | has the clew to the mysteiy in her own hands. But, in the present state of her mind, is her testimony to bo trusted-even if she were will.ng to speak? Judging by my own experience, I should say decidedly not" "You dGu't mean that you have seen her again r Agnes eagerly interposed. "Yes, I had hair an hour to spare before dinner, and I disturbed her once more over her endless writing" "And you told her what you found when you opened the hiding place?" "Of course I did," Henry replied. "I said, in so many words, that I held her x'esponsible | for tbe ciscowry, and that I expected her to j reveal the ? hole truth. She went on with her writing J:S if I had spoken in an unknown tongue. I was equally obstinate ou my sido. I told her plainly that the head had been placed under the care of the police, and that the manager and I had signed oar declara? tions and given our evidence. She paid not the slightest heed to me. By way of tempt? ing her to speak, I added that the whole in? vestigation rv as to be kc;,: a secret, and that she might depend un my discretion. For the moment I thought I had succeeded. She j looked up from her writing with a passing ! flash of curiosity, and said: 'What aro they j going to do with it?-meaning, I suppose, thc j head. I answered that it was to | be privately buried, after photr-graphs ! of it had be'-n first taken. I even went the length of communicating the opinion of vhe ! surgeon consulted, that somo chemical means i of arresting decomposition had been used and j had only partially succeeded-and I asked j her ;*oi:it blank if the surgeon was right. The trap was not a bad one, but it completely failed. She said in the coolest manner: k2vbw you aro here I should like to consult j you about my play ; I am at a loss for some ? new incident.5 Miad! there was nothing j satirical in this, She was really vager to | read her wonderful work to 1 ne-evidently j supposing that 1 took a special interest in j such things because my brother is the man- j ager of a theatre! I left her, making the j first excuse that occurred to me. So far as I : am concerned 1 can do nothing with her. j But it is possibly that your influence may sue- j ceed wi;ii her again, as it has succeeded al- j ready. Will you make the attempt to sat- j isfy your own miad? She is still upstairs; j an-i I am quite ready to accompany you/*' Agnes shuddered at tbs bare suggestion of j another interview with thc countess. "? can't! I daren't!" sh?.- exclaimed. "After ? what has happened in that horrible room, she ! is more repellent to me than ever. L-on't ask cae to d'j it, Henry! Feel my hand-you have ! turned mo as cold as death only with talking j of il!" She was not exn^ere'eing the terror thai , possessed her. Henry hastened to change ? the subject. uLet us talk of something moro interest- j hig," he .<ud. "I have a question to ask you j ftbout yourself. Am I right in believing that ? the sooner y ou get away from Venice tho j happier you will be?" "Right?." she repeated, excitedly. "You | are more than right! 2^0 words can say how j I long to be away from this horrible place. ? But you know how I am situated-you heard j what Lord D?ontbarry said at dinner time'*" j "Suppose he has altered his plans since j dinner time?' Henry suggested. Agnes loo! .a surprised. "I thought fcc had received letters from England which obliged him to leave Venice to-morrow," she said. "Quite true," Henry admitted. "He had arranged to start for England to-morrow, and to leave you and Lady Kontbarry and the children to enjoy your holiday in Venice under my care. Circumstances have oc? curred, however, which have forced bim to alter his plans. He must take you ali back with him to-morrow, because I am not able : to assume charge of you. I am obliged to ; give up my holiday in Italy, and return to j England tro." Agnes looked at him in some little perplex? ity ; she was not quite sure whether she under- [ stood bim or not "Are you really obliged to go back?' she asked. Henry smiled as he answered her. "Keep the secret," he said, "or Montbarry will never forgive mel" : She read the rest in his face. "Oh," she ex claimed, blushing brightly, "you-have not given up your pleasant holiday in Italy op. my account?" "I shall go back with yon to England, Ag? nes. That will be holiday enough for me." She took his hand in an irrepressible out? burst of gratitude. "How good you are to me!" she murmured tenderly. "What should I have done in the troubles that have come to me, without your sympathy? I can't tell you. Henry, how I feel your kindness." Sho tried impulsively to lift his hand to her lips. He gently stopped her.- "Agnes," he said, "are you beginning to understand how truly I love you?" That simple question found its Own way to her heart. She owned the whole truth, with out saying a word. She looked at him-and then looked away again. He drew her to his bosom. "My own darling!" he whispered-and kissed her. Softly and tremulously the sweet lips lingered, and touched his lips in return. Then her head drooped. She put her arms round bis neck, and kid her face in his bosom. They spoke no more. The charmed silence had lasted butu little while, when it was mercilessly broken by a knock at the door. Agnes started to her feet. She placed her? self at the piano; the instrument being oppo? site to the door, it was impossible, when sho seated herself on the music stool, for any person entering the room to see her face. Henry called out irritably, "Come in." The door was not opened. The person -on the other side asked a strange question: "Is Mr. Henry West wick alone?" Agnes instantly recognized the voice of the countess. She hurried to a second door, which communicated with one of the bed? rooms. '-Don't let her come near me!" she whispered, nervously. "Good night, Henry! good night!" If Henry could, by an effort of will, have transported the countess to tho uttermost ends of the earth he would have made the effort without r?moi se. As it was, he only reoeated, more irritably than ever, "Como inp She entered the room slowly with ber everlasting manuscript in her hand. Her step was unsteady ; a dark flush appeared on her face iii place of its customary pallor; her eyes were bloodshot and widely dilated. In approaching Esnry she showed a strange in? capability of calculating her distances-she struck against the table near which be hap? pened to be sitting. When she spoke her articulation was confused, and her pronun? ciation of some of the longer words was hardiy intelligible. Most men would have suspected her of being under the influence of some intoxicating liquor. Henry took a truer view-he said, as ho placed a chair for her, "Countess, I am afraid you have been working too hard ; you look as if you wanted rest." She put her hand to her head. "My invention is gone," she said. "I can't write my fourth act. It's all a blank-all a blank!" Henry advised her to wait till the next day. "Go to bed," he suggested, "and try and sleep" She waved her hand impatiently. "I must finish the play," she answered. "I only want a hint from you. You must know something about plays. Your brother has got a theatre. You must often have heard him talk about fourth and fifth acts you mus: have seen rehearsals, and all the rest of iL" She abruptly thrust the manu? script into Henry's hand. ""I can't read it to you," she said; "I feel giddy when I look at my own writing: Just run your eye over it, there's a gool fellow-and give me a hint."" Henry glanced at the manuscript. He happened to look at the list of the persons of the drama, As bo read the list he started and turned abruptly to the countess, intend? ing to ask her for some explanation. The words were suspended on his lips. It was but too plainly useless to speak to her. Her head la}* back on the upper rail of the chair. She seemed to be half asleep already. The flush on her face had deepened; she looked like a woman who was in danger of having a fit He rang the bell, and directed the man who answered it to send one of the chambermaids upstairs. His voice seemed to partially rouse the countess; she opened her eyes in a slow, drowsy way. ''Have you read itf ' she asked. It was necessary, as a mere act of human? ity, to fcuinor her. "I will read it willingly^" said Henry, "if you will go upstairs to bed. You shall hear what I think of it to-morrow morning. Our heads will be clearer, we shall be better able to make the fourth act in thc morning." The chambermaid came in while he was speaking. "I am afraid the lady is ill," Henry whispered. "Take her up to her room." The woman looked at tho countess, and whispered back, "Shall we send for a doctor, sir?" Henry advised taking her upstairs first, and then asking the managers advice. There was great difficulty in persuading her to rise and accept the support of ch? chambermaid's arm. It was only by reiterated promises to read tho play that night, and to make the fourth act in the morning, that Henry pre? vailed on the countess to return to her room. ieft to himself he began to feel a certain languid curiosity in relation to the manu? script. He looked over the pages, reading a line here and a lino there. Suddenly he changed color as he read-and looked up from tho manuscript like a man bewildered. "Good God! what does this mean?" he said to himself. His eyes turned nervously to the door by which Agnes had left him. She might re? turn to tho drawing room; she might want to see what the countess had written. He looked Lack again at the passage which sta: tied him-considered with himself for a moment-and suddenly and softly left tho room. CHAPTER XXVI. Entering his own room on the uppei floor. Henry placed the manuscript On the tabla open ut the rlr^t leaf Iiis nerves were un questionably shaken; his hand trembled as h? turned th?- pages; hr. started at chance noises on the staircase of the hotel. The scenario, or outline, of the countess play began with no formal prefatory phrases. She presented herself and her work with th? easy familiarity of an old friend. "Allow me, dear Mr. Francis Westwick, to introduce to you the persons in my proposed play. Behold them arranged symmetrically in a line. '.Tho lord. The baron. The courier. Tin doctor. Tbe countess. "I don't troul.I?, myself, you see, to inveni fictitious family names. My characters ar? sufficiently distinguished by their social titles, and by the striking contrast which they pre? sent one with another. "The first act opens "No! Before I open tue first act I must an? nounce, in justice lo myself, that this play is entirely the work of my own invention. 1 scorn to borrow from actual events; and, what is more extraordinary still, I have n<-' stolen one <>f my ideas from the modern French drama. As tho manager of an Eu? lish theatre, you will naturally refuse to be? lieve this. It doesn't matter. Nothing mat ters-except the opening of my first act. "We aro at Homburg, in tho famous Salon d'Or, at the height of the season. The coun? tess (exquisitely dressed) ts seated at tho green table. Strangers of ail nations are standing j behind the players Suturing their money, or ' only looking on. My lord is among tho strangers. Ha is struck by the countess1 j personal appearance, in which beauties and defects are fantastically mingled in the most attractive manner. He watches the conn- I tess' ^uu:e, and ?.laces his moue}' whore he sees her deposit ber own litllo stake. Sho looks round at bin?, and says, 'Don't trust to my color; I have been unlucky thy whole evening. Play y< >ur s? o ko on t he other color, I and you may have a chanco of winning.' My lord (a true Englishman) blushes, bows and obeys. The countess proves a true prophet. She loses again. My lord wins twice thc sum that he has risked. "The countess rises from the table. She ! has no moro money; and ?he offers my lord hei chair. "Instead of taking it, he politely places his winnings in her hand, and begs her to accept the loan as a favor to himself. The countess stakes again, and loses again. My lord smiles superbly, and presses a second loan on her. ! From that moment ber luck turns. She wins, j and wins largely, lier brother, the baron. i trying bis fortune in another room, hears c I what is going on, and joins my lord and tl: j countess. J "Pay attention, if you please, to the baror I He is delineated as a remarkable and interest j ing character. j "This noble person has begun life with : single minded devotion to the science cf es [ perimental chemistry, very surprising in ; young and haudsome man with a bril lian j future before him. A profound knowledg j of the occult sciences Das persuaded tho baro : that it is possible to solve the famous prol : lem called the 'Philosophers Stone.' His ow: J pecuniary resources have long since been cz I hausted by his costly experiments. His siste j has next supplied him with the small f ortun I at her disposal; reserving only the family jen j els, placed in the chargo of her banker am ! friend at Frankfort. The countess' fortun j also being swallowed up, the baron has in . I fatal moment sought f o: new supplies at th i gaming table. He proves, at starting on hi ! perilous career, to be a favorite of fortune , wins largely, and alas! profanes his noble cn I thusiasm by yielding his soul to the all debas j ing passion of the gamester. "At the period of the play the baron's gco< fortune has deserted him. He sees his wa; I to a crowning experiment in tho fatal searcl after the secret of transmuting th6 base: metals into goldk But how is be tc pay tb. preliminary expenses? Destiny, like a mock ing echo, answers 'How? "Will his sister's winnings (with my lord' money) prove large enough to heh) him Eager for this result, he give3 the cou rites bis advice how to play. From that disastrou moment the infection of his own adverse for tune spreads to his sister. She loses again am again-loses to the last farthing. "The amiable and wealthy lord oilers z \ third loan, but the scrupulous countess pos i j tively refuses to tako it. On leaying thc table she presents her brother to my lord. Th< gentlemen fall into pleasant talk. My lon j asks leave to pay his respects to the countes ? tho next morning at her hotel. Tho baroi hospitably invites him to breakfast. My lore accepts, with a last admiring glauco at th* countess which does not escape her brother'; observation, and takes his leave for the night "Alone with his sister, the baron speak: out plainly. 'Our affairs,' be says, 'are in c ? desperate condition and must find a desperat? remedy. Wait for me herc while I make in quiries al-jut my lord. You haye evidentlj produced a strong impression on him. If wt can turn that impression into money, n( matter at what sacrifice, the thing must bi done.' "The countess now occupies the stage alon? and indulges in a soliloquy which develops her character. "It is at once a dangerous and "attractive character. Immense capacities for good ari implanted in her nature, sido by sido witt equally remarkable capacities for evil. Ii rests with circumstances to develop either thc one or the other. Being a person who pro duces a sensation whoever she goes, tim noblo lady is naturally made the subject oi all sorts of scandalous reports. To one ol these reports-which falsely and abominably points to the baron as her lover instead of bei brother-she now refers with just indigna? tion. She has just expressed her desire tc leave Homburg, as the place in which the vile calumny first toole its rise, when the baron returns, overhears her last words, and says to her, 'Yes, leave Homburg by all means; provided you leave it in the character of my lord's betrothed wife!' "The countess is startled and shocked. She protests that she does not reciprocate my lord's admiration fer her. She even goes tue length of refusing to seo him aga:::. The baron answers, 'I must positively have com? mand of money. Take your choice, between marrying my lord's income, in the interest o? my grand discover}'-or leave me to sell my? self and my title to tho first rich woman of low degree who is ready to buy me.' "The countess listens in surprise and dis? may. Is it possible that the baron is in earnest? He is horribly in earnest. 'Tue woman who will buy me,' he says, 'is in tho next room to us at this moment. She is tho wealthy widow of a Jewish usurer. She has tho money I want to reach tho solution ot' the great problem. I have only to be that woman's husband, and to mako.myself master of untold mihions of gold. Take five minutes to consider wbat I have told you, and tell me on my return which of us is to marry fur th-3 money I want, you or I.' "As ho turns away, the countess stops him. "All the noblest sentiments in her nature are exalted to tho highest pitch. 'Where U the true woman,' she exclaims, 'who wanta time to consummate tho sacrifice of herself, "when the niau to whom sho is devoted de? mands il?' "She docs not want five minutes: she doc? not want five seconds-she holds out her lian J to him, and sho says: 'Sacrifice me on tbs . altar of your glory I Take ns stepping stones on the way to your triumph, my love, my liberty and my lite!' "On this grar.d situation tho curtain fails; Judging by my first act, Mr. V?rostwick, tel; me truly, and don't be afraid of turning my head. Am I not capable of writing a goed playT ' * * * * * * Henry paused between the first and second acts-reflecting, not on the merits of the play, but on tho strange resemblance which the in? cidents so far presented to the incidents that had attended tho disastrous marriage of the first Lord Montbarry. Was it possible that tho countess, in th? present condition of her mind, supposed her? self to bc exercising her invention when she was on:y exercising ber memory? The question involved consideration too se? rious to be made the subject of a hasty decis? ion. Ileservmg his ophiion, Henry turned the page and devoted himself to tho reading of tao next act. Tho manuscript proceeded as follows: "The second act opens at Venice. An in? terval of four months has elapsed since the date of the scene at the gambling table. ri he action now takes place in the reception room of one of thc Venetian palaces; "The baron is discovered alone on thc stni?e. Ile r?vons to the events which ha\c happened since the close of the first act. Tho countess has sacrificed herself ; the mercenary marriage has taken place-but not without obstacp-s caused by difference of opinion on the question of marriage Settlements. "Private inquiries instituted in England have informed the baron that my lord's chief income is derived chiefly from what is called enta lied property. In caso of accidents he is : surely bound to do something for Iiis brido. Let him, for example, insuro his life for :-. Sum proposed 'ny the baron, and let him so ! settle tlie money that his widow will have it i; IJC di? s first. "Hiv lord hesitates. Tho biiron washes no time in ?selas discussion. 'Lot us by ail mr-oiis,' ho s:ivs, 'consider the marriage as broken oiT.' My ?ord shifts his ground, an ! -'pleads fer a smaller sum than tho sam pro? posed. The baron briefly replies, *t ie"ci' bargain.' ?dy loni h: in love; the natural ? o M:?: fallows-he gives way. "So f;ir, tho l;;:ron lias no ca.:t*e to com? plain. But. hiv lord's trna come-, when the marriage lias l?een celebrated; ami wh^-n the b:v*:i 1 ? 'ti i.-> over. The b:ir.-:i has joined the married pair at n palace whiHj they hare hired in Venice. Ho is still b nt ?>;] solving the problem of tho 'Philosopher's SM>:I?-*.: Pi : Laboratory is set up JU thc van?ts beneath the. palace-so that smells from chemical expel i ments may not incomm?od th:; countess i;i the higher regions nf tho house; Tho one obstacle in tli<- vy?y ;.!' his grand discovery i*, p.-. usual, tho want of money. His positron, at the present time, has become truly oriti :?;.). Ile ov.es debts of honorTo ?:.-nt 1 mc? ! i.i bis ' wa J'-mk ?<: !i:*e, which raiist pcs!Vivi ly ? bo paid; nu?! ho j ropost s, hi c.v.*:;-friendly ! maimer, to borrow the m-'ney ^f n.y i o.!. ! My lord positively refuses, iii the "rudes: term-.. XSe ba rmi applies-to bis'sister lo ex crcisc h.cr conjugal inlluence. She cm <.:;.., answer that lier noble husband-1 icing no longer distractedly in love with her-now ; appears in his true character, as cue of ii.-? I meanest men living. Thu sacrifice oi the marriage has been made, and has already prove?.! useless; "Such is th? state of affairs at the opening of the secoml act. "The entrance of the mnntoss suddenly dis ! turbs the baron's reflections. She is in a state I bordering on frenzy. Incoherent expressions i of rage bui"st from her lips; it is some Lime ! before she can sufficiently control bereif to speak plainly. She has been doubly insulted -first., by a menial person In her employ? ment; secondly, by her husband. lier maid, an Englishwoman, has declared that sho will serve tile countess no longer. She will give up her wages and return at once to England. Being asked her reason for this strango pro? ceeding, she insolently hints that the coun? tess' service is no service for an honest woman, since the baron has entered the house. The countess does what any lady in br r position would do; she indignantly dis? misses the wretch on the spot Sly lord, hearing his wife's voice raised in angel*, leaves the study in which be ir. accus? tomed to shut himself up over his books, and C.S.LS WUu t this disturbance means. The coun? tess informs him of the outrageous language and conduct of her maid. My lord not only declares his entire aproval of the woman's conduct, but expresses his own abominable doubts of his wife's fidelity, in language of such horrible brutality that no lady could pollute her lips by repeating it. "If I had been a man,' the countess says, "and if I had. had a weapon in my hand I would have struck him dead at my feet!' j "The baron, listening silently so foxy-nen? ; speaks. 'Permit me to finish the sentence for you,' he says. 'You would havo struck your husband dead at your feet, and by that rash act )*ou would have deprived yourself of the insurance money settled 07i the widow-the ', *ery mone?- which is wanted to relieve your j brother from the unendurable pecuniary po? sition which he rfbw occupies!' "The countess gravely reminds the bard? chat this is no joking matter. After what my lord has said to her she has little doubt that he will communicate his infamous,suspicions to his lawyers in England. If nothing is done j to prevent ir, she may be divorced and dis? graced and thrown on the world with no re? source but the salo of her jewels to keep ber .' from starving. j "At this moment the courier Who has been j engaged to travel with my lord from England crosses tho stage with a letter to take to the post. The countess stops him and asks to look at the address on the lotter. She takes it from him for a moment and shows it to her brother. Tho handwriting is my lord's, and ; thc letter is directed to his lawyers in Lou : don. j "The courier proceeds to the postoffice. The j baron and tho countess look at each other in j silence. 2so words are needed. They thor ! oughiy understand the position in which they ; are placed; they clearly seo thc terrible rera ! edy for lt. What is the plain alternative be ! fore them? Disgrace and ruin-or my lord's ! death! -Tho baron walks backward and forward i in great agitation, talking to himself. The j countess hears fragments of what he is say i ing. He speaks of ray lord's constitution I probably weakened in India-of a cold which j nry lord has caught two or three days since j of the remarkable manner in which such I slight things as colds sometimes end in serious,! illness and death. "Ile observes that the countess is listening i to him, and asks if she has anything to pfo j pose. She is a woman who, with many de j fects, has the merit of speaking out. 'Is there ! no such thing as a serious illness,' she asks, j 'corked ap in one of those bottles of yours in j the vaults down stairs? I "The baron answers by gravely shaking his j head. What is he afraid of ?-a possible ex? amination of tho body after death? ^o: he can set any post-mortem examination at de? fiance. It is the process of administering the poison that he dreads. A man so distin? guished as my lord cannot be taken seriously iii without medical attendance. Whore there is a doctor there is ai ways danger of discov? ery. Then, again, there is the courier, faith ! ful to my lord as long as my lord pays him. Even if the doctor sees nothing suspicious, tho courier raav disco .'cr something. Tho I poison, to do its work With the necessary se ? crecy, must be repeatedly administered i? I graduated doses. One trilling raiscalcuietioi j cr mistake may rouse suspicion. Tho instil? j erice ?.fhhv may hear of it, and may refuse to j pay the money. As things arc, the baron j will n<>t risk ir. and will not allow his sister to j risk ir in his ?Mace. -My lord himself is the next character who appears. id? has repeatedly rung for the courier, and the bell has not boen answered. .What does this insolence mean?' "The countess (speaking with quiet dignity -for why should her infamous husband have the satisfaction of knowing how deeply he hus wounded herr) reminds my lord that tho cornier has gone to tho post. My lord asks suspiciously if she has looked at tho letter. Tho countess informs him coldly that she has no curiosity about his letters. Referring to j the cold from which he is suffering, she in? quires if thinks of consulting a medical man. My lord answers roughly that he is j quite o?d enough to be capaabie of doctoring i h?m>eh\ ' "As lie makes this reply, the courier ap? pears, returning from the post. My lord gives him orders to go out again and. buy some If mons. He proposes to try hot lemon? ade as a menus of inducing perspiration in beil. In t,hat way he has formerly cured colds, and ia that way he will euro tho cold from which he is suffering now. "The courier obeys in silence. Judging by appearances, he goes very reluctantly cn this second errand. .My lora turns to (ho baron (who has thus far taken no part in tho conversation) and asks him, in ;: sneering tone, bow muck longer he proposes to prolong his stay in Venice; The baron answers quietly, 'Let us speak plainly to ono another, my lord. If you wish me to leave your house you have only to say tho word, and 1 go.1 My lord turns to his wife, and asks if she can support the calamity of her trc*..:.-r's absence-laying :? crossly in? sultingemphasis on the word""".'bi . ?cr.' The countess preserves her faipoiicti ".jle com? posure; nothing in her betrays the deadly, hatred with which sho regards tho titled rufdiau who has insulted her. 'You aro master in this house, my lord,' is alt she ?ays. 'Do as you pienso.' "My lord looks at his wife: looks at tho baron-and suddenly alters his tone. Do-s he peroriv..- fa the c*?m:.H??.:ris of th. countess una her broth-: r s- -n.. tufag i:r"hi:;g under tho Surface th:<t thronten* bimi Tins ir. aC least certain, tbst'Iie makes a ciu>u>y : :?-logy for tile kne.Uago that bo lias used. (Abject ?wretch:! "My-loni'sexcuse*.are ihterrnpied by tho return of rho courier with the lemons ahu hot watei. "The count?-sa observes for the llrst time chat th. mau looks iii. His hands tremble as the-t-ray r,i\ the table. My loni ot* ovnier :<. follow him, and M. -kes tho !..!;?? na'!-- mik- i-dr? '-ni. The countess re* ?'n?ri.s tiir.i the 'courier seems hardly capable of-obeying in's order.*. Hearing tin.-- tho man admit? that he i< iii. lie. ibo. i.-> M:1 fjimr'? cold;he Lias been kept waiting hi a ilrtii: ii'.. ni tho shot.' where- ?i'* botiriit the ,:e p. 'g I ?. . : . . . ?i to liv down Tor U li'O.io ! ''. ? big h.r humanity ap?>er.Icd to, thc CM:J::*.<-- s. .v-..lu:i t e rs t ?< make the !? i;i in ? !.. :. f. My i- i i take? lU>- cot: ri..*':: bv tho ! o nu. ie.ivis him a>Siie and whimpers* tiu-su i "... rd- ; . Uni: 'Wi;-tel: h. r. ;??>d see thats!.o j ph . .. -: bing into tiie h-:i:oiiade; ikea bring is j ; . v.it!? y. ...:?'.<: ;i i.itn.is, and then gu Lo j "Wi ,.. .1 Word to his wife or to tho j bai'ort rr.v i ,-.? ? ;.v. ?.:.:>. o-om. i "ik-c> . : : . ? - i. ; . ti- s ; he lemonade ?nu ??io i courier t..'.- s ii io l.:s master. "ib-tu! ::.ug on the v...y ro his own i*.--om ho . .f !:>..:...;;> :.-lTe p:i^.-s th-::-. Tiio ba rca, j .-se-e.^i.-ruU- i-, ??'l>:.;.s hov degn -, : oiTci his arm. "I au. ..iraid, :.iy p feiiow;! h? s..ys, 'ilznt, yOu i*.::e r-ahy iii 1 The ri-uj-j. r niuk?s :ni< ....dh.:;;y answer: "b's u l over vvi.v; .-Iv: I ??av.- caw-lit mv d-a:-.' -Th- .?*m:t.->s nata.idly iran:..':. 'Vdu cold stuviy nu-an catching \.?nr ti. :. . Tho cvaricr lixv? his eyes despair- . hrgiy on tho c?.;iu'->. ; v iu::-.'.v-.ik, my ntoy".' he saya 'I havo uk. tdy had two attacks of bron? chitis. The s*.cond tim:' a givat physic:a?> joined uiy owii^doctor fa attendance <>n nu?. ;ie conshifiv.l my recovery aJiud^t in tiio light >:f a inirae'e. "Take <?ai*e"oi yourself.'' ho snid. "if you have a Lhird attack of bronchitis, as certainly as tvu> and two make four 3"ou will bo a dead man.-' I feei tho same inward shivering, my lady,.that I felt on chose two former occasions-and I Dell you. again, I have caught my death ia Venice.' "Speaking seme comforting words, the baron leads him to his room. The countess is left alone on the stage. "She scats herself, and looks toward the door by which tho courier has boon led out. j 'Ah! my poor fellow,'she says, 'if yon. could : only chango constitutions with my lord what ! a happy result would follow fur tho baron j and for me! If you could only ger. cured of a j trumpery cold with a little hot lemonade, j and if ho could only catch his death in your j place!' "She suddenly pauses-considers for awhile j -mid springs to her feet with a cry of tri- j umphant surprise: the wonderful, the unpar- ! alleled idea hus crossed her mind like a fbisb j of lightning. Make tho two men chaagG j names and places, and the ?leed is ^pie! I Where are the obstacles? Remove my lord- j by fair means or fou!-from his room and \ .koop him secretly prisoner in the palace, to j 'ive or die as future necessity may determine. ! Place the courier in the vacant bed and call ; in the doctor to <see him-ill, in my lord'3 character, and-if he dies-dying ender my | lord's name." The manuscript dropped from Henry's bands. A sickening sesse of horror orerpow- j ered him. The question which had occurred I at tho close of tho first act of tho play as- i sumed a now and ?err??e interest now. Asi far as the scene of the countess' soliloquy, tho j incidents of the second act had reliccted tho j the events of his late brother's lifo as faith- i fully as the incidents of the first act. Wa3 j thc monstrous plot, revealed in the lines which ; ho had just read, tho offspring of th?-countess1 ' morbid imagination : cr hud she in tiri* cusa j also deluded herself with the idea that sho was inventing when, sho was really writing | under the influence of her own guilty remem brance of tho past? If the latter interpreta tion were the true one, ho had .?ust readthe i narrative of tho contemplated warder of his ! brother, planned in cold blood bj* a woman j who was at that moment inhabiting tue same house with him. While, to make the fatality j complete. Agnes herself had innocently pro? ! vided the conspirators with the one man who j was fitted tc be the passive agent of their j crime. Even tho bare doubt that it might l>e so, ! was moro than he could endure. Ho left bli \ room ; resolved to force thc truth out of tho j countess, or to denounce her before tba ! authorities as a murderess at large. Arrived at her door, ho was met by a per? | son just leaving thc room. The person wal the manager. He was hardly recognizable; ho looked and spoke like a man in a state of desperation. '.Ohs go in^ if 3*ou like!" he said to Henry. "'Mark this, sir! I am not a superstitious man; but Ido begin to believe that crime? carry their own curse with Lhem. This hole* is undera curso. What happens in the morn lng? We discover a crime committed in thi old days of t he palace. The night comes, and brings another dreadful event with it-a death; a sudden and shocking death, in the house. Go in, and see for yourself! I shall resign my situation, Mr. West-wick; I can't contend with the fatalides, that pursue m* herc!" . Henry entered the room. The countess was stretched on her bed. Tho* doctor on one side and the chambermaid on the other, were stand ing looking at her. From timo to time, she drew a heavy stertor? ous breath, like a person oppressed in sleep? ing. "Ts she likely to die?"' Henry asked. "She is dead," die doctor answered. "Dead of thc rupture of a blood vessel on the brain. Those sounds that you hear are purely me- j chanical-they may go on for hours." ?.$&.?* isdeacLV Henry looked at the chambermaid. She nad little to tell. The countess had refused to go to bed, and had placed herself at her desk to proceed with her writing. Finning it useless to remonstrate with her, the maid had loft the room to speak to tie manager. In the shortest possible time the doctor was sum? moned to the hotel, and found the countess dead on tho floor. There was this to tell, and no more Looking ot the writing table as he went ont, Henry saw the sheet of pap*?r on which the countess had traced her last lines of writing. The characters wore almost illegible. Henry could just distinguish the words, "First Act," and "Persons of the Drama." The lost wretch had been thinking of her play to the last, and had begun it all over again! CHAPTER XXVIL Henry returned to his room. His first impulse was to throw aside the manuscript, and never to look at it again, j Tho one chance of relieving his mind from the i tread ful uncertainty that oppressed it, I by obtaining,p>itive evidence of the truth, was ii chalice annihilated by tho countess' j death. What good pin-noseeould'be served, \ what relief could ho anticipate, if he read more? He walked up and down the room. Af rei' ? an interval, his thoughts took a new di rec- ? tion; the question of tho nmnns-ript pre- i solltet! itself im.ter another point of vic-w. j Thu* far. his reading had only informed him ? that the conspiracy had i?ecn planned. How j did he know thai the plan had been put in ex- ; ovation? The manuscript lay just before him on thc I flc-'r. He hesitated-then picked it up; and. i returning to thc table, read on as follows, j from thc point at which lie had let off: ..While the countess is still absorbed tri thc;" ? bold yet simple combination of circumstances ! winch she has discovered, the baron returns. J lie takes a serious view of the eas.; of the j courier; it may bo necessary, he thinks, j semi for medica! advice. No servant is k-i'D j in thc palace, now the Engiisk'maid has taken ; ii--r departure. The baron himself must fetch : th- duelo:-, if ?he doctor :"s p-ahy needed. 'V'Li't us have medical h:dp by ail i:icm?>v ? Jus >ister replies. .Ihn wait and hear some- : thing that ? have lo say to von first' She ! then electrit?es the baron I ?yr communtcariivi . her ideas to him. What danger of discovery j have they to dread? My lord's life in Verney ; has been a iifeof .-iii-...?nie seclusion: nob.sly bu: io's banker knows bim, even "by pei's?mai j appearance. He has presented his letter of ? Cre<:?.". ns a perfect stranger: and he r.r. l lils bank'-r haVY: never seen each other since that j first visit. 1:.- has given no parties, andgone ! to !>o parties. On (he few.occasions when no ? has hired a L.oo .j , .p.-taken a walk, he has j aiwavs l?ei.-n alone. Thanks to tho atrooio?-~ j susi lici?n ".vi::.-!: makes bin: ashamed of being : seca with ?ns wife, ho has led the very hie ? which makes thc proposed enterprise, easy ol' ? ftc omplishmeiit. "Thc cautious baron listens--but cjvos no ; positive op:hi->n'as-y-ct. 'Soo ?.hat. yon can divW???v.th?* courier^ be say?., 'and I xviii ii--- : cine when i hear the rouifc. Ox1 valuable bi.itI may sive YOU b.?:v voa go V?>ui man is easby tempted by money- - it' you only offer him ?..-nvugh. The oilier day I asked . him in jest what, ho wot:Id-do for .vi.?.-:.'-'", lit? answered anything, '?ear inn! in mind, and offer-your high sc bid without bargaining.' j "The scene chang?? ?0 thc connor's room nnd shows thc? poor wretch with a photo- : graphic portrait vi his wife in his ham!, cry- . ing. Tho onmtess outers. "She xvisely begins by sympathizing with ; her contemplated accomplice. Ho is duly grateful: bc confides his sorrows tobi's gra- j cioiis mistress. .Now that ho lie! ie ves himself ? to be on his d -nibbed ho fe? li remullo for his j neglectful treatment of his wife. He couid I resign himself to die, but despair overpowers him when lie remembers that ho has saved no ? money, and that he will leave his widow without resources, to the mercy of wt ?lid. "On this hint the countess speaks, pose you were asked to do a ]K*rfeetly thing,' she says; 'and suppose you wei wanted for doing ir by a present of ?1,0C .legacy for 3'our widow? "The courier raises himself on his p; and looks at the countess with an expn of'incredulous surprise. She can bardi cruel enough {lie thinks) to joke with a in his miserable plight. Wiii she say pl what this perfectly easy thing is, the ? of which will meet with such a matuL" reward.' "The countess answers that ouestioi confiding her project to the courier-, wi; the slightest reserve. "Some minutes *of silence follow whei has done. The courier is not weak en yet to speak without stopping to think Still keeping his eyes on tho countes makes a quaintly innocent remark on he has just heard. 'I have ?ot hitherto a religious mani but I feel myself on the to it. Since your ladyship has spoken t< 1 believe in the devil.' It is the countes tr-rest to sec the humorous side of this fession of faith. Sho takes no offense, o.'iiysays, 'I will give you half an hoi yourself, to think over my proposal, are in danger cf doa.h. Decide, in wife's interests, whether you will die w nothing; or dio wrorth a thousand pounds "Loft alone, the courier seriously cons; his position-and decides. He rises with ficnity; writes a few lines on a leaf fc from his pocket- book: and with slow-and tiering steps loaves Tho room. "The countess, returning at tho crpirr of 'ha hal: hour's interval, finds the r empty While she is wondering the coi opens the door. What has he been doh g of his bcd? He answers: 'I have been tooting my own life, my lady, on the I chance that I may recover from thc bronc for the third time. If you or the baroi tempt to hurry me out of tiiis world or tc prive me of my .?1,000 reward I shall teil doctor where he will find a for,- lines of v mg which describes your ladyship's plot may not have strength enough, in the ? supposed, to betray you by makmg a c plete confession with my own lips, but I employ my la>t breath to speak the 1 dozen words which will tel*, tie doctor wi he is to look. Those words, it is needles; add, will be addressed to your ladyship find your engagements toward me faithfi kept."' "With this audacious preface he pro? to state the condition on which he will p. his part in the conspiracy, and die (if he cl die) worth ?1,009. "Either the countess or the baron are taste tho food and drink brought to his L side, in his presence, anti even the medici which the doctor may prescribe for him. for tho money, it is to be produced in < bank note, folded In a sheet of paper, which a line is to be written, dictated by courier. The two in?losures are then to sealed up in an envelope, addressed to wife, and stamped ready for the post. ? done, the letter is to be placed under piilow; the baron cr the countess being liberty to satisfy themselves, day by day their own time, that the lotter remains its piece, with the seal unbroken, as long the doctor has any hope of his patient's covory. The last stipulation follows. 1 courier has a conscience; and with a view keeping it easy, insists that he shall be left ignorance of that part of the plot which latos to the sequestration cf my lord. S that be cares particularly what becomes his r"*erly master-hut ho does dislike taki otb?i people's responsibilities on bis o1 shoulders. "These conditions being agreed to, t countess calls in the baron, who has bc waiting events in the next room. "He is informed that the courier has yield to temptation: but he is still too cautious make any compromising remarks. Keepi his back turned on the bed, he shows a tx tie to the countess. It is labeled 'chloroform She understands that my lord is to bei moved from his room in a convenient sta of insensibility. In what part of the pala is he to bo hidden? As they open the door go out, the countess whispers that question the baron. The baron whispers back, 'In t vaults:' On those words, the curtain falls." CHAPTER XXVIII. So tlve second act ended. Turning to the third act Henry looki wearily at the pages as he let them si through his fingers. Both in mind and bbe he began to *eel the need of repose. lu one important re-psct the latter portie of the manuscript differed from the pag which he had just been, reading. Signs of ? overwrought brain showed themselves he! and there as the outline of the play a] preached its end. The handwriting gre worse and woi-se. Some of the longer se* fences wore left unfinished. In the exchang of dialogue questions and answers were n< always attributed respectively to the rigl speaker. At certain intervals the writer failing intelligence seemed to recover itsc! for awhile, only to relapse again and to los the thread of the narrative more hopeless] than ever. After reading one or two of tho more cc li?rent passages Henry recoiled from the eve darkening horror of the story. He close the manuscript, heart sick and exhaastcc and threw himself on his bed to rest. Th door opened almost at the same moment Lord Montbarry entered the room. "We have just returned from tho opera, be said., "and we have L-.ird the news of tba "miserable woman's death. They say yo spoke to her in her last moments, and I wan to hear how it happened.*7 "You shall hear how it happened," Hehr; answered; "and mere than that. You ar now the head of the family, Stephen; and feel bound, in tho position, which oppresse me, to leave you to decide what ought to b done.*' With those introductory words, lie told Id: brother how the countess* play had conn into Iiis hands. "Read the first few pages," lie said. "1 am anxious to know whether th* saut!1 impression is produced ?>n both r.f ns." Before L-?rd M--:i:barry lindi got half wa\ tliro?gii ti:c first act. he stopped, and h<oke:, at his brother. "What does *>he mean by boasting "f this as her own inventionri? asked. " sVus she* too crazy f remember thai tiies.- things really happened-*' This was enough for Henry; the same im? pression had i.*oe:i pro-iuctnl on both i-f them. "You wid ?io as yoi? please," he said. "But ii yen '-viii :?:* guided by me. spare yotirself the reading of those pages to come watch de? scribe our5 brother's terrible expiation of his heart ?ess marriage." "Have you read, it ad. Henry|*! "?". ; ali. 1 shrunk from reading sonic? of the hitter part of ir. Neither you nor I saw much of i'ur elder bro.'.her after we left school; and for my part. I felt, and ticer pe; :'pbd t.- . "pros*? my fet-Hhg. that he be? in ced infamously t-> Agni*. When I read that uncfus'-ibus c.?nfos>ion of th* murder-..us conspiracy LO which iv fol! a victim. I re? membered. With something like remorse, that tile sume mo:!:er bom us. 1 have felt for hire to-night, whit 1 am gsh&mcd to til nk I never felt for him before." Cord M<-'n:barry took hi? i:"Oth?,r*s liarvX "You are a go;Hi feliow. Henry,** he said: "but are you quit** sure thus >,,n -have hot b<- n needlessly distressing yourself ? Because some of'this crony creature's writhigs uesi derrnlly n h- what we know to by. the truth; does .it foi'ow that ah the rest is. to. be relied eil to ti:.- end "Tb?-re is u<> possible doubt of it*. Henry* -...-plied; * l>t> p;?s..-t:?T"e ?loubt*'"" id-- brother repeated. "! s-hail go rn with my reading, lr nry- -and see-what juicit'icat-ion t?i?rc may be for tha! .lore lou steadily un:d he had reached thc ccnchi: ion of the second, act. Then he looked Up. "Do you really I ?che ve that thc mutilated remains which you d\->-<'Vi-i\>-l tiiis morning ar-- inc remains of cur brother?" he asked. ..And tlo you believe ir or. such evidence as th ?sf . Henry answered silently by a sign in th-? aflirmutiv*'. Lord Montbarry checked himself-evi? dently on the point of entering an in.liguant protest. "You acknowledge that you have not read'-. ibo later scenes of ?wjnoce," hej>aid. "Don't?; -rrri ;. 7? , be childish, Henry. Ii you persist in pinning ! 3'oar faith on such stuf? as this the least yotf i can do is to make ycm-self thoroughly ao ! quaiuted with it. Wiii yon read the thin! i act? Ko? Then I shall read it to you.5' Es turned to the third act, and ran over chose fragmentary passages which wer? clearly enough expressed to bs intet?ig?M6 to' the mind of a stranger." "Here is a scene ia the vaults of the palace,? ho began. "The victim of the conspiracy ? sleeping on his miserable bed: and the baron and tiie countess are considering the position j ia which they ?*aud. The countess (as wefl" j as I can make it out) has raised the money ! that is wanted by borrowing om the security I Of her jewels at Frankfort; and the courter ? up stairs is still declared by the doctor VS have a chance of recovery. What are tb?* conspirators to do if the man does recoverf The cautious baron suggests setting tho' pris? oner free. If he ventures to appeal to the law it is easy to declare that he is subject %d insane delusion and to call his own wife as sf witness. On the otlicr hand, if the courier dies, how is the sequestrated and unknpwii^ nobleman tobe put out of the way?* Pass^ ively, by letting bim starve in his prisonf Iso: the baron, isa man of refined tastes; be dislikes needless cruelty. Tho active policy remains. Say, assassination by the knife of a hired bravo: Thc baron objects to trusting' au accomplice: also to spending money on* any ono but himself. Shall they drop their prisoner into the canal? The baron declines;" to trust water-water wiii show him on the' surface. Shall they set his bed on fire? Auf excellent idea; b-ut the smoke might be'seenr Iso; poisoning is no doubt an easier death: than he deserves, but there is really no other* safe way out of it than to poison him. Is it possible, Henry, that you believe this consul? tation really took placer Henry made no replay. The succession ?f questions that had just boen read to him ex? actly followed tho succession of the dreams' that had terrified Mrs. Norbury on tho. two* nights which she bad passed at the hotel. It was useless to point out this coincidence to' his brother. He only said, LX?o on." Lord Mbntbarry ttsraed the pages until be came to tho next intelligible passage. "Here," he proceeded, "is a double sc??e?nr the stage, so far as I can understand the* sketch of it. The doctor is up stairs, inno-" cently writing the certificate of my lord's decease, by the dead courier s bedside. .Down in the vault the baron stands by the corpse' of the murdered lord, preparing the strong chemical acids which are to reduce it to ar heap of ashes. Surely, it is not worth while' to trouble outlives with deciphering such melodramatic ?errors as these. Let us get on! let us get on!" He turned the leaves again: attempted: vainly to discover the meaning of the con? fused scones that followed. On the last page' but one ho found the last intelligible" sen? tences. "The third act," he said, "seems to be diT? ded into two parts or tableaus. I think I can read the writing at the beginning of the sec? ond part. The baron and the countess open* the scene. The baron's hands are mysteri? ously concealed by gloves. He has reduced the body to ashes by his own system of cre? mation, with*the exception of the bead"-7-" Henry interrupted his brother there. "Don't read any more!" be exclaimed. "Let us do the countess justice," Lord Montbairypersisted. "Thereare nota half a dozen lines more that I can make out. The accidental breaking of bis jar of acid has burned the baron's hands severely. He if still unable to proceed to the destruction ot the head, and the countess is woman enough' (with all her wickedness) to shrink from at-' tempting to take his plate-when the first news is received of the coming arrival of the commission of inquiry dispatched by the in? surance offices. The baron feels no alarm. Inquire as the commission may, it is the nat-" ural death of the courier (in my lord's char actor) that they are blindly investigating. The head not being destroyed, the obvious" alternative is to hide it-and the baron is equal to the occasion^ His studies in the old library have informed him of a safe place ot concealment in the palace. The countess may recoil from handling the acids and watching the process of cremation, but she can surely sprinkle a little disinfecting pow? der" "No more!" Henry reiterated. "No moreF" "There is no more that can be read, my dear follow. The last page looks like sheer delirium. She ma}- weil have told you that her invention had failed her!'' "Face the truth honestly, Stephen^andsay ber memory." Lord Montbarry rose from the table at which he had been sitting, and looked at his brother vi ich pitying eyes. "Your nerves are out of order, Henry,*" he said. "And no wonder, after that frightful discovery under the hearthstone. We wou't dispute about it; we will wait a day or two until you are quite yourself aj;ain? In the" meantime, let us understand each other on* o:i?* point at least. You leave the question o? what is to be done with those pages of writ? ing to mo, as the bead of the family V "I do." Lord Montbarry quietly took up the manu? script, and threw it into the fire. "Let this rubbish be of some use,** he said, holding the pages ??own v. iib. the poker. "The room is' getting chilly-let the countess' p'ay set some of these charred logs flaming again." R? waited a little at.tho fireplace, mid returned tc his brother. "Now. Henry, I have a las* word to say, and then I have done. I am ready to admit that you have stumbled by au unlucky chance on tho proof of a crinia" committed in the old days of the palace, no-' body knows how long ago. With that one concession I dispute everything else. Rather than agree in the opinion you have formed, I won't believe anything that has happened. * Tho supernatural influences that some of us felt when we first slept in this hotel-your loss of apatite, our sisters dreadful dreams, thc smell that overpowere?; Francis and the hoa?I that appeared to Agnes-I do?ai-^bcm all t<> l>e slicer delusions! I believe m noth? ing, nothing; nothing:*" llecT'cned the door to go our, and looked back hito tho room; "Yes." he resumed, "there is c:i<? thing I bc-, hove in. My wife has committed a breach of confidence-I believe Acmes wi',! marry you. Good night, H':.:y. We leave Venice* the" first thing to-morrow morning.*" So Lord Mont barry disposed of the myi"-* tory ct "Thc Haunted Hotel.*' POSTSCRIPT. A Taft nivalis of deciding thc dnterenee o? Opinion bet woo:: the two b:\-tbers was still in Henry's possession: Ho had his cwn Mea of the usc to which lie might pu: tho false toothy as a means of inquiry, when his fellow trav? elers returned to England. The only surviving depository of tho do? mestic history of the family, in post years, was Acnes Lockwood's cid nu;-sc Henry took his flrst opportunity of trying ro reviva lier personal recollections of tho deceased Loni Mont barry. But thc nurse had never forgiven the great man of the family for his desertion 01* Agnes: sin? Carly refused tc con* her memory. "Even the bare right ol my" nrd, when I last saw him in London,** san; the old woman,''made 1113'finger nails itch to set their mark ?rn his face. I was sent on an errand by Miss Asnos, and I met bim' coming out of the demist** doer-and, thank Go?b that's the last I ?<w of him." Tcanks to the nurse's quick rompe* 5?5? quaint way of expressing herself, tho Object of Henry's inquiries was gained already! Ha ventured cn asking it" sh-J had noticed the sit? uation of thc bouse. She had noticed, and still remembered ibo situation-"cid Master Henry suppose she had lost the usc of bel! senses, "because she had happened to be nigh* Cii S'j years old?" The same day he took ti?" false teeth to the dentist, and set all further doubt \:C doubt had still been possible), alp rest forever. Tho teeth had been made for' the first Lord Mor.tbarry. Henry had never revealed tho existence ol!" this last link in tho chain of discovery to any living creature, his brother Stephen included, He carried his terrible secret with him to th?' gra ve. There was one ?."?thor ovent m the memora? ble rast on which he preserved the samo cora-^ nas.-.ionate silence. Little Mrs. Ferrari never* knew ihat her husband had been-not, as she supooscd, the countess' victim-but tiwi' countess'accomplice. She still believed thaU the late Lord Montbarry had sent her tho' ?1.000 note, and still recoiled from making* use of a present, whi-h she persisted mde-~ CONCLUDED SN FOCBTH PAX?""*