PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 11398, 15 April 1899, Page 3

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

VTHE BOND OF BLACK.'

By WILLIAM LE QUEUX, author o: "Whoso Fmdeth a Wife," "If Sinners Entice Thee," " Scribes and Pharisees," •' Tfc» Day of Temptation," " The Great War in England," etc., etc.

[COPYMRIIT.]

CHAPTER XIX.—THK RESULT OP THE COMPACT.

" There s some Devil's work been performed here!" gasped the newly-appointed Vicar, turning over the ashes with trembling hands, while at the same time I, too, bent and examined the fused fragments of the communion cup. The recollection of tae miraculous changes effected in my own room was fresh within my memory, and I stood amazed. The agency to which was due the melting of the chalice was still a mystery, but had 1 not seen Aline, the Woman of Evil, leave the /omirch? 1$ was apparent that Yelverton had not defeated her presence or he would most probably have referred to it. He loved her with an all-absorbing love, yet, like my Jtoif., Ttti seemed to hold her in sonic mysterious dread, the reason of which .1 always failed to discover. His theory that the. clergy should not marry, whs, I believe, a mere uloak to hide his terror of her. This incident'showed me that now he had come.back to his. old parish she haunted him as she had done in the past, sometimes unseen, and at others boldly greeting him. ' Thai mghi she had sat a few pews behind me listening to his brilliant discourse, veiled and unrecognised in the halflighted churcn, and had escaped quickly, in order that none should be aware of her presence. But I hau caugtit a glimpse of her, and the knowledge of hei visit had been immediately followed by this astounding discovery. Her evil influence had once more asserteu itself upon a sacred object c«id destroyed it Truly her power was Satanic. Yet she was so calm, so sweet, so eminently beautiful, that I did not wonder that lie loved her. Indeed, I recollected how madly I once iiad fallen down and worshipped her. And now had I not a compact with her? Had I not given myself ovei to her, body and soul, to become her puppet and her slave'/

I shuddered wnen 1 recollected that hour of, my foolishness. This Woman of Evii held> me irrevocably in her power. "How strange'" I exclaimed at last, .vnen I had thoroughly examined the ashes. I would have told him of Alines presence. but with my lips sealed by my promise I feared to uttei^a word lest I might be stricken by liei deadly hate, for bhe certainly was something more than human. " Strange ! :> he cried. " It's marvellous, "eel! The ashes are quite warm! Tiie heat required to. melt and fuse a heavy 6 vessel."like that would be enormous. It couldn't have been done by any natural means.' ."How, then, .0.0 you account for it?" I inquired, quickly. "I can't account for it," he answered in a hoarse voice, gazing about the darkened church, to., the lights had been nearly all extinguished, and the place was weird and eerie. Then with his lips compressed for a moment he looked straight at me, saymg in a' strange hard voice: " Clifton, such a change as this could not be effected by any Iranian means. If this had happened in a Boman Catholic church it would have been declared to be a miracle." ■"A miracle wrought by the Evil One!" I said. And-he boweu his head, his face ashen, his hands still trembling. "I cannot help thinking," he said after a pause, " that tins is .1 bad augury for my . ministry here. : It is the first time I have, as Vicar, administered the Sacrament, and the after result is in plain evidence before us —a result which absolutely staggers belief."

■" Yes,' I said pensively. "It is more than extraordinary. It is' an enigma beyond solution; an actual problem of the suuernatural." "'That the chalice should be thus profaned and desecrated by an invisible agency is a startling' revelation indeed," he said. "A: hellish influence must be at work somewhere, unless," and he paused, "unless we have been tricked by a mere magacian's feat." ....

"But are not the ashes still hot?" I suggested. , "See here!" and I took up some of the-fused 'metal.. "Is not this silver? There seems no doubt that the cup was actually consumed here in the spot where the Verger placed it, and that it was consumed by an uncommonly fierce fire."

Without responding he stood gazing oiankly upon the ashes. I saw that his heart was torn by a thousand doubts and fears, and fell to wondering whether he had ever had any cause to suspect the woman he feared of possessing the power of destruction. '■

Again he glanced round the cavernous darkness-of the silent church, and a shudder went through him." "Let's go, my dear fellow," he said, endeavouring to steady himself. " I'm ■ utterly unnerved- to-night. Perhaps the efforts of my sermon have been a little too much for me. The doctor told me to avoid all undue excitement."

'"' Keep yourself quiet," I urged. "No doubt some explanation will be forthcoming very' soon," I added, endeavouring to reassure him.

] But he shook his head gloomily, and answered—

1" The Prince of this world is all-powerful. The maleficent spirit is with us always, and evil has fallen upon me, and upon my work."

No, no! I cried nuickly. " You talk too hopelessly, my dear old chap. You're upset to-night. To-morrow, after a. rest, you'll be quite fit again. You've excited yourself in your sermon, and this is the reaction." _ ■ ■

He shrugged his shoulders, and together we left the church. I walked with him across to his lodgings in a poorish-looking house in Liverpool street, facing the disused burial ground. He had not entered upon, residence at the Vicarage, for, as he explained to me, his wants were few, and he preferred furnished apartments to the worries of an establishment of his own. As I entered the small, rather closesmelling house I could not help contrasting it with Mrs Walker's clean, homely cottage in Duddington, where the ivy covered the porch, and the hollyhocks grew so tall in the little front garden. He took me into his .shabby little sitting-room, the window of which overlooked the churchyard, and I saw how terribly dreary was his abode.

■ I remarked that the place was scarcely so open an<l healthy as at Duddington, but as he sank into liis chair exhausted, he answered simply:

•" My work lies here among the poor, and it is my diifcv to live among them. Many men in London live away from their pftrifhes because the locality happens to be a working-class one, but such men can never cany on their work well. To know the people, to obtain their confidence and to be able to assist them, one must live nmon" them, however dismal is the life, however dreary the constant outlook of bricks and mortar."'

W'i'li this theory I was compelled to agree. Surely this man must be devout and Ood-fearing if he could give up the world as he had done to devote himself to the poor in such a locality and live the dismal life of ythe people among whom his work lay

Yet in his acquaintanceship with Aline there was some strange mystery. His hiding from het, and her clandestine visit to Dnddincrton were sufficient in themselves to show that their friendship had been strained, and his words, whenever he hnd spoken of her. were as though he held her in fear. Mystery surrounded her on every side.

I sat with my friend for- a long time smokincr with him in that dingy, cheerless room. Once only he referred to the curious phenomenon which had occurred in the church, and noticing that I had no. desire to discuss it, he dropped the subject. He was enthusiastic over his work, telling me sad stories of the poverty existing there on every side, and lamenting that while London gave liberally to Mansion House funds for the relief of foreigners, it giive so little to the deserving poor at Home

Suddenly, glancing sit the clock, he rtr saving that he had a visit to make.

" It's late." I exclaimed, seeing that it was after 10 o'clock. '■

" Not too late to do my duty," he answered. : Then we passed out, and in silence threaded uur way back through the narrow alleys until wo gained the Walworth mad, where we parted, after I had promised to call soon and see him again. When he had left me 1 turned once to look after him. His tall, athletic figure was disappearing in the darkness of the shims. Truly this man, who had been my old college chum, was a devoted servant of the Master. Several days went by, during which 1 reflected a . good deal upon the strange occurrence at St. Peter's, and the promise made me by Aline. Would Muriel return to me? Was the influence possessed by the Woman of Evil sufficient to cause her to abandon her newly-found lover and crave my forgiveness? She hud told me (o possess myself in pulionce, and I, in obedience to her command, neither sought Muriel nor wrote to hci\ A week passed. It was Saturday evening. 1 had been dining early over at the club, and on entering my chambers with my latch-key about 3 o'clock, having returned there before dropping in at the Alh.-anbra, I perceived through the crack of the half-open door that someone was in my sitting room. I held my breath, scarcely beheviug my eyes. It was Muriel. Slowly she rose to meet me with v majestic but rather tragic air, and without a word stretched forth her hand. "Why, Muriel!" I cried gladly. " You're ,(he very last person I expected I" "I suppose so," she said, adding in a low, strained voice. "Close the door. I have come to speak with you." 1 obeyed her; then returning to her side, stood eager for liei words. The enigmatical influence of xVline was upon her. for I saw that to her dark, brilliant eyes there had already returned that love-light which once had shone upon me, and noticed how her sweet, well-remembered voice trembled with an excitement which she strove vainly to conceal. Her dress was of grey stud', plainly made as always, but her black hat with'a touch of blue in it suited her well, and us she sat before me in the chair wherein the mysterious Temptress had sat, she seemed extremely graceful and more handsome than evei." " You have, I suppose, almost forgotten me during tins long separation, haven't yon?" she faltered with abruptness, after some hesitation. Apparently she had carefully prepared some little diplomatic speech, but in the excitement of the moment all recollection of it had passed from her mind. "Forgotten you, Muriel!" I echoed, gazing softly into her soft, beautiful eyes. "When we last met, did I not tell you that I should never forget?" Her breast heaved and fell, and her . countenance grew troubled. " Surely it is you who have forgotten me?" I said, with ;i touch of bitter reproach. " You have cast me aside in preference for another. Tell me what I have done that you should treat me thus?" "Nothing!" she responded, nervously, her grave eyes downcast." "Then, why cannot you love me, Muriel?" I demanded, bending towards her in desperation. ''I—l'm foolish to have come here," she said, in sudden desperation, rising from her cliaii. , "Why foolish?" I asked. '"'Even though, you may love another you are always welcome to my rooms as of old. I bear you no ill-will, Muriel," I said, not, however, without bitterness. A silence fell. Again she sighed deeply, and then at last raising her fair1 face to mine, she exclaimed in an eager, trembling tone "Forgive me, Chiton! Forgive me! I have come here to-night to ask you to have • pity upon me. I know how I have wronged you, but I have come to tell you that I still love you—to ask whether you consider me still worthy, of. your love." "Of course, darling!" I cried, springing forward, instantly placing my arm around her neck and imprinting » fond kiss upon her white brow.' "Of course, I love you," I repeated, enthusiastic in my newly-fpund contentment. ". Since .you have gone out of my life I have been sad and lonely, indeed;. and when I knew that you loved . another all desire for life left me.' I——'' "But I love you, Clifton,'' she cried, interrupting. "It was but a foolish passing fancy on my part ■to prefer that man to you who have always been my friend, who have always been so kind' and so thoughtful on my behalf. I wronged you deeply, and have since repented it." "The knowledge that you still love me, dearest, is sufficient. It gives me the completest satisfaction, it'renders me the most happy man in .the' world," aid. still retaining her hand I pressed it warmly to my lips. "Then you forgive me?" she asked, with a seriousness that at such a moment struck me as'curious. .« : "Forgive you? Certainly!" I answered. "This estrangement has tested the affection of both of us. We now know that it is impossible for us to live apart:" ," Ah, yes!" she, answered. .'•' You are quite right. I cannot live, without you. it is impossible. . I have tried and have failed." . " Then in future you are mine darling," I cried, in joyous ecstaey. " Let the past remain as a warning to us both. ' Not only were you inconstant, but I was also; therefore on my part there is nothing to forgive. Let happiness now be ours because we have both discovered that only in each other can we find that' perfect love which to the pure and upright is as life' itself." For me the face of the world had changed in those moments. A. new and brighter life had come to me. " Yes !•" she answered in a low tone, which showed plainly how affected she was. And raising her full ready lips, to mine, she kissed me passionately, adding: " You are generous, indeed, Clifton. 1 feared and dreaded always that you had cast me aside as fickle and unworthy a thought. "No, no!" I said, my arm around her protectingly. "Think no more' of that. Don't let us remember the past, dearest, but look to a brighter future —a future when you will always be with me, my companion, my helpmate, my wife!" There were tears in her dark eyes, tears of boundless joy and abundant happiness. She had come there 'half expecting a rebuff, yes had found me ready and eager to forgive ; therefore, in a few moments her emotion overcame her, and she' hid her tear-stained face in her hands. The prophecy of the Woman of Evil had been fulfilled. Yet at what a, cost had I gained this felicity? At the cost of a guilty silence—a silence that shielded her from the exposure of some mysterious unknown guilt. Such thoughts I endeavoured to cast from me in the dreamy happiness of those felicitous moments. Yet as I held Muriel in my arms and kissed her pale tearstained cheeks, I could not help reflecting upon the veil of mystery which surrounded the woman whose inexplicable influence had caused my love to return to me. In my sudden happiness there still remained tlie dregs of bitterness —the strange death of the man who had been my most intimate friend, and the demonical power possessed by tlie woman to whom I- had unconditionally bound myself in return for Muriel's love. . . . The words I uttered caused her to hesitate, to hold her breath, and look up at me with those dark brilliant eyes which had so long ago held me beneath their spell. Again her hand trembled, again tears rose in her eyes, but at last, when I had repeated my sentence, she faltered a response. It was but a single word, but it caused my heart to bound for'joy, and in an instant raised me to the seventh heaven of delight. Her response from that moment

bound us in closer relationship than before. (She had given me her promise to become my wife. In the hour that followed many were oar mutual declarations, many were the kisses 1 imprinted upon (hose lips, with their true Cupid's bow, without wliioli no wr.nuin's beauty is entirely perfect. From her conversation I gathered that the assistants at the great shop in the Holloway Road were treated, as (hey often are, an mere machines, Uie emi)]oyers having no more regard for their health or mental recreation than for the cash balls which roll along the inclined planes to the cash desk. Life within that groat series of shops win mere drudgery and slavery, the galling bonds of which only those who have had experience of it can fully appreciate. " From the time we open till closing time we haven't a single moment's rest," she said, in reply to my question, " and with nearly 80 fines for breaking various rules, and a stuff of tyrannical shop-walkers who arc always either fining us or abusing us before the customers, things are utterly unbearable." " Yes," I said, indignantly, " the tyrannies of shop life ought to be exposed." " Indeed they ought," she agreed. " One of our rules fines us a shilling if after serving a customer we don't' introduce at least two articles to her.'1 " People don't like things they don't want pushed under their noses," I said. "It always annoys me." "Of course, they don't," she agreed. "Again, if we're late, only five minutes, in the morning when we go in to dust we're fined sixpence; if one of the shopwalkers owes any girl a grudge lie will fine .her a shilling for talking during business, and if she allows a customer to go out without buying anything and without calling his attention to it, .she h:is to pay half-a-crown. People don't think when they enter a shop and are met by a sauve man in frock coat who hands them v chair and calls an assistant, that this very man is watching whether the unfortunate counter-slave will break any of the code of rules so that the instant the customer has gone she', may be fined, with an added warning that if a similar thing again oqcurs she will be dismissed." "In no other trade would men and women conform to such rules," I exclaimed, for she had often told me of these things before. " Who takes the fines?" ' " The firm, of course," she answered. " They're supposed to go towards the library; but the lattei consists of only about 50 worn-out tattered books which haven't been addrd to for the past three years." " I 'don't wonder that such an existence should crush all life from you. It's enough to render anyone okl before their time, slaving away in that place from morning to night, without even .sufficient time for . your meals. Cut why are you a favourite?" I asked. She looked at me fo. an instant, then j dropped her eyes and remained silent. " 1 scarcely know." she faltered at last, and I scented in her indecision an element of mystery. " But you muse be aware of the reason that yon are not treated quite as harshly as the others.," " Well," she laughed, a slight flush mounting to her cheek, " it may be because of my friendliness towards the shopwalker." " The shopwalker I" I exclaimed in surprise, not without some jealous resentment rising within me. "Why are you ■ friendly towards him: "But it is judicious not'to offend him," she said. " One girl did, and within aweek she was discharged." i " But such truckling to a greasy, oilymouthed. tailor's dummy is simply nauseating," I tried fiercely "Do you mean to say that you actually have to smile and be amiable to this mar. —perhaps even to flirt with him —in order to save yourself from being diven to death?" " Certainly," .she answered quite frankly. "And who is this man?" I inquired, perhaps v trifle.harshly, " The man with whom you saw me on that night when you followed me from Aldersgato street," she responded. '■ That tall thin man!" I cried, amazed "The man who was your lover!" She nodded,. and her eyes were again downcast. . ■ I sat staring at her in amazement. I had never thought of that. " What's his name?" I asked quickly. "Henry Hibbert." "And he is shopwalker at your place?" "Certainly." " Why didn't you tell me this before, when I asked you?" I inquired. " Because I had no desire that you should sneer at mo for walking out with a man of that kind," she responded. " But now that it's all past, I can fearlessly tell you the truth." "But what made you take up with him?" I asked, eager now to at least penetr.ate some portion of the mystery, for I recollected that nig]it in the Park, when I had overheard this man Hibbert's strange conversation with Aline. '" I really don't know what caused me to entertain any regard for him," she answered. " How did it come about?" "We were introduced one night in the Jtonico. I somehow thought him pleasant and well-mannered, and, I don't know how it was, but I found myself thinking always of- him. We met several times, but then I did not know what he was. I had no idea that he was a shopwalker. It was because of my foolish infatuation, I suppose, that I cast aside your love. But from that moment my regret increased, until I could bear the separation no longer, and I came to-night to seek your forgiveness." " But what knowledge of this man had you before that night in the cafe?" I inquired. "Who introduced you?" " A girl friend. I knew nothing of him before, and have since come to the conclusion that she knew him but slightly." "Then was he.at this time in the shop in the Holloway'road?" I asked, feeling that this fact should be at once cleared up . " I think so." " Are yon absolutely certain? " "No, I'm not. Wliy do you ask?" "Because," I answered reflectively, "because it is strange that you should have taken an engagement at the very shop where lie was employed." " It was he who gave me the introduction there," she said. " Only when I got there and commenced' work did I find to mv surprise that the man who had interested himself on mv behalf was actually the shopwalker. He saw the look of surprise upon my face, and lauerhed heartily over it." " Did you never seel: to inquire how long previously he had been employed there?" "No. It'nevei occurred to me to do so," she answered. " But you can discover now easily enough, I suppose?" "Of course I can," she replied. " But why are you so anxious to know?" "I have a reason foi desiring to know the exact date on which he entered the firm's employ," I. said. " You will ihid it out foi me at once, won't you?" "If .you wish/ " Then let me know by letter as soon as you possibly can." I urged quickly. " But you need not be jealous of him, Clifton,' she said, seeking to reassure me. With her woman's quick instinct she saw that my anger had been raised against him. "How can I help beinc annoyed?" I said. "The facts seem quite plain that lie first took service with this firm, and then most probably obtained the dismissal of one of the girls in order to muke a vacancy for you. Ho was in love with you, I suppose. I added, rather harshly. "Love was never mentioned between us," she declared. "We merely went out and about together, and in business he used to chat and joke with me. But as for love "

And she laughed scornfully, without concluding her sentence. "And the other girls were jealous of jou -eh?" She laughed. " I suppose they were," she answered.

"Was this man —Tlibbert was his name— an experienced shopwalker?" "1 think so," she replied. "But he -.vus disliked on account of his har.sln-.ws and his constant fining of everybody." " Kxcept you." "Yes," she laughed. "I generally managed to escape." She noticed the hard look in my face, as I pondered over the strange fact. That this man who was such sui intimate acquaintance of Alino's was actually shopwalker where Muriel was employed added to the mystery considerably, rather than decreasing it. v "Why need we discuss him now?" she asked. "It is all over." " But your acquaintance with this man who has evidently striven to win your love must still continue if you remain where you are," I said in a tone of annoyance. " No," she replied. "It is already at an end." " But he's your shopwalker. If you have refused to go out with him, in future he'll undoubtedly vent his spiteful wrath upon you." " Oh, no,' lie won't," she laughed. "Why?" "Because he has left." " Loft! " I echoed. "Of course you know where he is." " No, I don't," she replied. "He annoyed me in business by speaking harshly to me before a customer, and I told him ',

plainly that I would, never again go out in his company. He apologised, but I was obdurate, and I have never seen him since.

He went away that night, and has not

returned. His place was filled up to-day. At first it was thought that lie might have stolen something; but nothing has-been missed, and now his sudden departure is believed to be due to his natural impetuousness and eccentricity."

Then it would seem that owing to a disagreement with .you ho left his employment. That's really very remarkable f" I said.

" Yes. ■ Everybody thinks it strange, but. of course, they don't know that we quarrelled."

" And you swear to me that you have never loved him, Muriel?" I asked, looking straight into her upturned face.

"I swear to you, Clifton/ she answered. " I swear that lie has never once kissed me nor has lie uttered a word of affection Wo were merely friends." "Then that makes the aspect of affairs even more puzzling," I observed. " That he had some motive for leaving secretly there is no doubt. What, I wonder, could it have been? " "I don't'know, and it really doesn't trouble me," sho replied. " I was exceedingly glad when, he went, and now am doiiblv triad that 1 came and sought your forgiveness." "And I too, dearest," -I said, holding her hand tenderly in mine. "Hut. truth to tell, I have no confidence in that man. There was something about him that I didn't like, and this latest move has in creased my suspicion." '" What suspicion?" . "That his intentions were not honest ones I " I answered. "Why, Clifton," she cried, "what an absurd fancy! Do you think that because I broke off his acquaintance lie intends to murder me?" " I have no definite views on the subject,'' I answered, "except that he intended tn do you some evil, and has up to the present been (hwartecl." " You'll make me nuite nervous if you talk like that." she' responded, lam'hms. "Let us forget him. You once admired that woman, Aline Cloud, but that cir■cumsfimio has passed out of mv mind." " You must leave that plncp and so. down to Rtnmfnvd." T snid dpeisivelv. "A rest in the country will do you Rond. and .in a few months we will marry." '■■'"I'll Jiavo to rive .1 month's notice before I leave." she answered. " Then »ive it to-morrow." I said " For I cannot.bear to think, dearest, that now you are to be my wife you should still bear that1 terrible drurk'ery." She sighed, and her countenance jrre«' troubled, as if something oppressed her. Sho paused me some apprehension, for it seemed as though, oven now, she was not pc-rfeotlv )vvpp<-. I pave toncue to tins thoujrht, but with a lieht lauch she assured me of her per-1 fee!. contentm pnt. and .that her rejrret was only of the past. Then we snt together, .chattincf in ecstactic enthusiasm, as T suppose all lovers do. planning our 'future, wherein our bliss was to be unallowed n--'7 our love undviri" And as we talked I saw how at last she became composed in that haven of oonfpntment which' is so perfect after the troubled sea of repret and despair, while I, too, felt that at last I wanted nothing, for the great- desire of mv life bad been fulfilled. Snddenlv. however, thoughts of A'i^e. the mvsterinn= woman who had nome between us so stran«elv the friend of this nv.m TT:bbeii and tlif secret acmminla'icp of poor Borldv. crossed mv mind, nnrl T re.Mi'ved to «nin from her what knowWl '« she possessed. Therefore, with care and skill I led our conversation up to her. and then point-blank asked her what she knew reffardinc this woman whose face was that of an aneel. and wlmpo he^rt was lint of Satan himself.

I saw how she started at mention of .-Mine's name: how the colour fled from her cheeks, and how sudden was her resolve to fence with me; for at o'neo she asserted her ignorance, and suerpesled that we mijrhfc muturill agree to burr the past.

■But she is a mystery. Muriel." T said ; "a anvsterv winch I-have been trvinjr in vain to solve through all these months Tell me all you know of her. dearest." "T know nothing." she dpclnrpd. in a nervous tone. " Absolutely nothing." ""Rut are you aware that this man, Hibbert. the man • w.ith whom you associate.'!, wns her friend—her lover? " " What?" she criedv her face in an instant undenrointr a slrango transformn tion. " He —her lover? " " Yes." I answered. " Did you not. know they lc friend's?" "T can't believe it." slifi answered, palefaced and bewildered. Whatever was the revelation I had made to her it'had evidently caused within her n strong revulsion of feeling. I had. indeed, strona susnicion that tliese words of mine had supplied some missing link in a chain of facts which had long perplexed and puzzled her. * " What causes you to allege this?" she asked quickly, looking sharrjlv into mv eyes. "because I have seen.them together, J answered.. "I have overheard their conversation." " Tt can't be true that they are close acquaintances," she said in a low mechanical voice, as if speaking to herself. "It is impossible." "Why impossible?" I inquired.

" Because there are facts which have conclusively shown that there could have been no love between them."

"Are those facts so remarkable. Muriel, that you live compelled to conceal them from me?" I asked seriously in earnest.

"At present they are," she faltered. " What you have told me has increased the mystery tenfold. I had never expected that they were friends."

that tliev were friends." "And if they were, what then?" I inquired in eagerness. "Then the truth mus^be stranger than T had ever dreamed," she answered in a voice which betrayed her blank bewilderment. " The striking of the clock warned her • that it was time she was going, and caused Ime to recollect that a man would call in a. few minutes to repay a loan I had given him. He was an officer—a very decent fellow, whom I had known for years, ami who for a few weeks had been in rather low water. But he was again in funds, and, having met at the club that afternoon, he premised to run over at 10 o'clock, smoke ■' cigar, and repay me.

T regretted this engagement, because it prevented me seeing Muriel home: but when I referred to it she declared that she

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would take a cab from the rank outside, as she had done so many times in the old days of our Platonic friendship, and she would get back quite comfortably. She buttoned her gloves, and after kissing me fondly readjusted her veil. Then, when we had repeated our vows of undying affection, and she had promised me to return ; and lunch with me next morning, as it was Sunday, she went out and down the stairs. I was a trifle annoyed that, at the club ' earlier in the day, I had made the appointment with Bryant, but the .sum I had lent was £60, and, knowing what a careless fellow he was, I felt that it was best to obtain repayment now, When he offered it; hence I was prevented from accompanying Muriel. But as it could not be avoided, and as .she had expressed herself perfectly contented to return alone, I cast myself again in my chair, mixed a whisky and soda, lit a cigarette, and gave myself' up to re/leclion. i Muriel loved me. I cared for nought else in all the world.' She would be my wife, and after travelling on the continent for a while we would live somewhere in

the country quietly, where we could enjoy ourselves amid that rural peace which to the London-worn is so restful, so refreshing, and. so soothing. After perhaps a quarter of an hour I heard Sims go to (he door, and Bryant's voice exclaim hurriedly: "Is your master in?" • " Come in, my dear fellow! come in!" I shouted, without rising from my chair. ' Next instant he dashed into the room, his face white and scared, exclaiming: "There's something-wrong'down at the bottom of your stairs. Coma with mj and •see, old chap. There's a girl lying there— a pretty girl dressed .in grey,—and I believe she'sj dead ! " " Dead ! " I gasped, petrified, for the description he: had given me was that of Muriel. "Yes!" he cried, excitedly. "I believe she's been murdered I " -; / To be continued.)