THE LEAVENWORTH MURDER

BY ANNA KAIIIERTNE GREEN.

Authoress of

"A Strange Disappearance" and

♦'The Sword of Damocles."

CHAPTER XXV (Concludkd).

"No," sir. Afterwards Mr Stebbins turned towards tlio otlusr lady who now came forward, and asked her if she wouldn't plnaso sign it, and she said ' yes,' aud came very quickly and did so." "And didn't you 800 her face then?" " No, sir; her back was to me wlion she threw by her veil, and I only Haw Mr .Stobbins staring at her as sho stooped. with a kind of wonder on Ilia face, which made me think that blio might have been something worth loooking ;it, too, but 1 didn't -co her myself." "Well, what happened then?" " I don't know, sir. I went stumbling out o£ the room, and didn't see anything more " " Where were you when the ladies went away?" " In tlin garden, sir; I had gone back to my work." " You saw them, tbeu ; was the gcutlc man with them ?" "No, sir; that was the queer part of it all. They went back a.s (hey came, and so did he; ami in a few minutes Mr Stebhins cume out whcr<3 1 was mid told me I wits to Say nothing about what I had seen, ior it was a secret," " Were you the only one in the houfo Who knew anything about it:' Weren't there any women urouuii ?" I'■ No, sir; Miss Stcbbina had gone to the scwiug circle." t bad by this time some faint impression of what Mr Ocyce's suspicious were, and in arranging the picture-; had placed one, tlmt of Kli'anoro—and on exquisite portrait it wan too—'>u the mautel-piece, and the other, which was nu UDCOinnionly line photograph of Mary, in plain view mi the desk, lint Mr Cook's back was an yet towards that part of the room, and taking advantages of this moment I rotunml and inked him if that was all he had to tell us about this matter. 11 Yea, sir.' " Then," said Mr Gryco with a glance at Q, " isn't there something here you can give Mr Cook in payment for his story? Look around, will you J" y uodded and moved towards a cupboard in the wall which was at the side of the mantel-piuco, Mr Cook following him with his eyes us was natural, when with a sud den start ho crossed the room and pausing before the mantol-pieeo, looked at the pic ture of Kleauoro which I hud put there, gavoa low grunt of satisfaction or pleasure, looked at it again,aud walked away. 1 felt my heart leap up into my throat, and moved l>y what impulse or dread r.r hope I cannot say, turned my back, when suddenly I lieaid him t;ive vent to it startled exehiina ruation, followed by the wordi :—" Why hero slip is, (bis is her, sirs," and turning around, saw him hurrying towards us with Mary's picture in his hands. Idouulkuow that 1 wnt greatly snrp'isod, I was powerfully excited as well us con scious of v certain whirl of thought and an unsettling of old conclusions that was very confusing, but surprise:!? no. It seemed as if the manner of Mr Gryco had too well prepared me. *• Tlii!* the lady -who was married to Mr Claveiing, my good man? I guess you are mistaken," cried Mr Gryco in a very in cteduloua tone. " Mistaken? didn't I say I would know her anywhere? This is ihe lady if die is the president's wife herself." And Mr (look leaned over it with a devouring look that was not without its element of homage. " 1 am very much nstonished," Mr Gryco vent on, winking at me in n slow diabolical way tiiat in another mood would have aroused my licrccst anger. '"Now if you had said the other lady was the one —" pointing to the picture on the mantel • piece—"l shouhlu't have wondered," "She? I never saw that lady before; hut this one—would you mind telling me her uumo, sirs ?" " if what you say is true, her name is Jlra Cluvcring." " Clavering? Yes, that was his name," " Ana a very lovely lady," said Mr (Jryce. "Mortis, haven't you fouud any thing yet." "Yes,sir," replied (J, bringing forward glasses and a b-ittlo. But Mr Cook was in no mood for liquor, 1 think he was struck by leniorse; for looking from the picture to Q, aud from Q to tiie picture, he said : " If 1 have done this lady wrorjg by my talk, I'll never forgive myself. You told mo I would be helping her to get her rights; if you have deceived me—" "01 haven't deceived you," broke in Q in his short sharp way. "Ask that gentleman there if we aic not all interested in Mrs Clavering getting her due.'* He had designated me, but I was in no mood to reply. 1 longed to have the man dismissed, that I might inquire the reason of the great complacency which I now saw overspreading Mr Uryce's frame, to hia very linger ends. "Mr C»ok needn't ha concerned," re marked Mr OJryce. "If lie wilt take a glass of warm drink, to fortify him for his walk, I think he may go to the lodgings Mr Morris has provided for him, without fear. (Jive the gent a glacs, and let him mix for himself." But it was full ten minutes before we ■were delivered of the man, and bis vain regrets. Mary's image had seemed to call up every latent feeling iv his heart, and I could but wonder over a loveliness that was capable of swaying even such as he. But at last he yielded to the seductions of the now wily Q, and departed. Left aloun with Mr Gryce, I must have allowed some of the emotions which filled my breast to become apparent on my coun tenance, for he exclaimed very grimly, and yet with a latent.touch of that complacency I had before noticed. " This discovery rather upsMsyou, doesn't it ? Well, it don't me," shutting his mouth like a trap. " I expected it." "You niit't hava formed very'different conclusions from what I have done," I re turned, " or you wou'd see that this dis covery alters the complexion of the whole att'uir." " It does not alter the truth." "What is the truth?" Mr Uryce's very let's crew thoughtful; hia voice sank to its deepest tones. "Do you very much want to know ?" •'Want to know the truth? what else are we a'tc?" " Then," paid he, " to my notion, the comnlexion of things has altered, but very mnch for the better. As long as Eleanore was believed to bo the wife, her ection in

this matter was accounted for, but the tragedy itself was not. Why should Eleauoro or Eleanoru's husband wish the ileatii of a man whose bounty was believed by them to cease with his life ? But with Mary, theheirets, proved the wife;—l tell you,Mr Raymond,it all Jiangs together now. You must never, in reckoning up an all'air of murder like this, forget who it is that' most prolit* by the deceased man's death." "But Eleunoro's ailcuce? her conceal ment of certain proofs and evidences in ' her own breast—how will you account for that? I can imagine a woman devoting ! herself to the phicldine of a husband from ' the consequences of crime, but a cousin's husband, ucver." i Mr Grycc put hia feet verv_ closely : together, and Bofily grunted. "Then you i still think Mr Clavenug the assassin of Mr Leavenworth ?" ' I could only stare at him in my sudden doubt aud dread. "Still think:" I re peated. "Mr Clavering the murderer of Mr Leavenworth?'' "Why, what else in thoro to think? You don't—you can't suspect Eleanore of having deliberately undertaken to help her cousin out, of a difficulty, by taking the life otiheir mutual benefactor ?" "No;" said Mr Grycc : "no, I do not think Eionttoro Leaveuwotth had any hand in tne business." "Then who—" I began and stopped, lost in the dreadful vista that was opening before me. "Who? Why who but the oae -whose inst deceit and present necessity demanded. his death as v relief? who hut the beauti ful, gorgeous, mcmoy-loving, man-deceiving goddess-" 1 leaped to my feet iv my sudden-horror and repugnance, ''Do not mention the name," ened I; "you are wrong, but do not speak tlio mime." " Kxcuse mo," said lie, " but it will have to be spoken many time?, and we may as well begin—Mary Leavenworth, or, if you like it better, Mrs Henry Wavering. Are you so much surprised? It has been my thought from (lie beginning."

XXVI. MR GRYCE EXPLAINS HIMSELF.

SiU tbe wind In that corner? —Much ado aiiout Nothing

I DO not wropo.se to enter into a description of the mingled feelings lliat overwhelmed me at this announcement. As a drovvuing man is said to live over in one terrißie instant the events of a lifetime, i-o each wonl that had been uttered in my hen ing 'by Mary, from her first introduction to me in her own room on the night of Mr Claver iug's call, aweiit in one wild phantasmagoria through my brain, leaving me aghast at the signification which her whole conduct seemed to ncquiro from' tlio lurid light which now fell upon it. " I fee that I have pulled down an avalanche of doubts about your ears," exclaimed ray enmuanjou from the height Ol his calm superiority. "You never thought of this possibility, then, yourself?" " Do not ask me what I luivc thought. I only know one tiling, :tnd. that is, that 1 will never helicvi your suspicions truo. Tuat. however much Mary may have been benefited by her uncle's death, she nxver had a hand in it; actual hand, I mean," added I with an attempt to be honest. " And what makes you think not?" "And what makes you think she had? It is for you to prove tint she had, nut for me to prove she had not?" "Ah," said Mr Gryce in his slow, s»r ansticjway, "you recollect thatpriuclple of law, do you? if I remember right, you have not always been so punctilious in regarding it or wishing to have it regarded, when the question was whether Mr Claveiing was tne assassin or nut." " But ho is a man. It doei not seem so dreadful to accuse a man of crime. But. a woman ! and such a woman ! I cannot listeu to it; it Is horrible. Nothing short of absolute confession on her part wilt ever make me believe Mary Leaveuwoith perpe trated this deed. It was too cruel, toodcli berate, too—" " Head tlio criminal records," broke in Mr Gryco. " But 1 was obstinate. "I do not earn for tbe criminal records. All the criminal records iv the world would never make me believe Eleanore perpetrated ttiis crime, nor will I be Uss generous towards her cousin, Mary Leaven worth is a faulty woman, but not a guilty one." "You are moro lenient in your judgment of her than her cousin was, it appears." "I do not understand you,1' murmured I, feeling a new and ytt more fearful light breaking upon me, " What, have you forgotten in the hurry of these late events, the sentence of accusation which wo overheard uttered between these Indies oa the morning of the inquest ?" "No, but—" " You believed it to be spoken by Mary to Eleanore?" " Of course, didn't you ?" O.the smile thatcrossedMrGrycc's face ! "Scarcely. I thought one was enough to follow on that tack." 'ihe light, tho light that was breaking upon me ! " And do you mean to suy," cried I, "tbat it yvas Eleanore who was speaking at that time ? that I have been labouring all these weeks under a terrible mistake, and that you could have righted me with a word and did not?' "Well," said he* "as to that, I had a purpose in lotting -you follow your own lead for awhile. In the first place, I was not myself sure which spoke, though I had but little doubt about the mutter. The voices are, as you must have noticed, very much alike, while the attitudes in which we found them upon entering were such as to be explainable equally that Mary was in the act of launching a denunciation, or in tbat of repelling one. So that while I did not hesitate myself as to what was the true ex. planation of -the scene before me, I was pleased to fu.d that you accepted a contra'y one; as in this way botli theories would have the chance ot being tested; as was right io a c»se of so mtic!t mystery. You accordingly took up the affair with one idea for your starting-point and I with auother. You saw every fact as it developed through the medium ot Mary's belief in Elea nore'sguilt.and I through tlic contrary. Aud what ha? been tlic result? With you, doubt, contradiction, constant nnsettlement and unwarranted resorts to strange sources for reconcilement between appearances and your own convictions, with me, growing assurance in a belie! which each and every development, po far, has but served to strengthen and make more probable." Again that wild panorama of events, looks and words swept before me. Mary's re iterated assertions of her cousin's innocence, Elcanore's attitude of lofty silencein regnrd to certain matters which might bo con sidered by her as pointing towards the murderer. " Your theory must be the correct one," said I at last; "it was undoubtedly Elea nore who spoke. She bolieve-i in Mary's guilt and I have becu blind indeed, not to have seea it from the first." "If Eleanore Leavenworth believes in her cousin's criminality, she must have some good reason for doing so."

I was obliged to admit that too. " She did not conceal in her bosom that tell-tale key,—found who knows where—

and destroy, or seek to destroy it and the letter which introduced her cousin to the public us the cruel unprincipled destroyer of a crusting man's peace, for nothing." '' No, no." " And yet you, a stranger,.a young man who has never seen Mary Leavenwonh in any other light than that in which her cogue full uaturo sought to display itself, 1 presume to say she is lunncent, in the face of the attitude maintained by Eleanore Lcavenworih from tbe first." " But," said I in my great unwillingness to accept bis conclusions, "Eleanore Leav cuwortn is but mortal. She may have been mistaken in her inferences. Sho hus never stilted what her suspicion was founded upon, nor can we know what basis she has for maintaining the attitude you speak of. Clavoring is as likely to bo the assassin as Mary.for all we know, and possibly for all she knowa." " You seem to be almost superstitious m your belief in Claveriug's guilt." I recoiled. "Was I ? Could it be that Mr Harwell's fanciful conviction in regard to this man, had in any way iiilluenced me to the detriment of my better judgement 1 " And you may be right," Mr Uryce went on ; " I do not pretend to bo set in my notions, Future investigation may succeed in fixing something upou him, tbough I lurdly think it likely. His behaviour as the secret husband of a woman possessing motives for the commission of a crime, hus been too con?i-tent throughout." " All except his leaving her." "No exception at all, for he hasn't left her." "What do you mean?" "I mean that instead of leaving the country, Mr Cluvering has only made pre tence of doiog so. Thid in place of drag ging himself oil' to ISurops at her command, lie lias only changed his ludgin"s», and can now be found, uofouTy in :i house opposite to hers, but in tin. window of that house, where he .sita day after d»y watching wiio goes in and out of dor front door." 1 remembered his parting injunction to me in that memorable interview wo had in my oilice, and saw myself compelled to put a new construction upon it. '•IJut 1 was assured at the Hoffman Hou'e ihathc had sailed for Euro]>e, and myself s-aw the man win proteges to have driven him to the steamer." "Just so." " A'-d Mr Clavering returned to the city aftir that?" "In another carriage and to another IIOUSP." " Ami you tell me that man is all right ?" said 1. "No," return'd ho, "I only cay there isn't the shadow of evidence against liira us the (icrson who shot Mr Leavenworth," UUing, 1 pHced the Hour, and for a few minutes silence fell between us. But the (•lock Rlrikiujr, recalled me io the necessity of the hour, and turning I asked Mr Gryce what ho proposed to do now. "There is but one thing I can do," re turned he. "And that is?" "Togo upon such lights as I have, and cause the arrest ot Miss Leaveoworih." I had by this time schooled myself to en durance, aud was able lo hear this without uttering an exclamation. But I could not let it p»Bi without making one effort to combat his determination. " liut," said I, "I do not see what evi dence you have positive enougrj in its character, to warrant you in such action. You have yourself intimated that the existence of motive is not enough, even though taken with the fact of the suspected party being in the house at the time of the murUer, and what more hare you to urge Kgainsi Alias Leavenwonh?" " I'ardon me," he interrupted. "I said 1 Mis< Lcavoiiworth '; 1 stiould have said ' Elranoie Leavenworth.1" " Eleanore ? What, when you and all unite in thinking that she alone of ail these parties to the crime is utterly guiltless of wrong?" " And yet who i* the only one upon whom anything has as yet heen fixed." 1 could but acknowledge that. "Mr Kaymond," ho remarked, very gravely, " the public is becoming clamo rous ; something must be done to satisfy it, if only for the moment. Eleanore has laid herself open to the suspicion of the police and must take iho consequences of her action. I om sorry; she is a noble creature, I ndrnirnhcr; but justice is jus tice, and though I think her innocent, I shall be forced to put "her under arrest unless—" " But I cannot 6e reconciled to it," cried I. "It is doing an irretrievable injury to one whoso only fault is an undue and mis taken devotion to an unworthy cousin. If Mary is the—" "Unless somethinz occurs between now and to-nmrrow morning," Mr Gryce went ou as if I had not spokeu. " To-morrow morniDg?" "Yes." I tried to realise it. tried to face the fact that alll my efforts had been for nothing, and failed. " Will you not grant me une more day," I asked in my desperation. "What to do?" Alao, I did not know. "To confront Mr Clavering, and forco from him the truth." " To make a mess of the whole affair," cried he. ''No, sir; tho die is cast. Eleanore Leavenworth knows the one point which fixes this crime upon her cousin, and she must tell us that point or suffer the consequences of her refusal." I made one mure effort. •'But why to-morrow? Having ex hausted so much time already iii our inquiries, why not take a little more; especially as wo are constantly growing warmer upon tbe trail ? A little more nioloiug—•" "A little moro fohlerol," exclaimed Mr Gryce. losing Jiis temper. " No, sir; the hour for molcing has passed; something decisive has got to be done now; though to be sure if I could liiid tho one missing link I want —" " Missing link ? What is that?" " Tho immediate motive of tho tragedy; a bit of proof that Mr Leavenworth threatened his niece with his displeasure or Mr Clavering with his rovenge would lift me i i«ht up on to the s«pot 1 want to be ; no arresting if Eleanore then. No, my lady, I would walk right into your own gilded parlours, and whon you asked me if I had found the murderer yet, say 'yes,' and show you a bit of paper that would surprise you, I'm thinking. But missing links aro not so easily found. This has been moltd for, and moled for, as you are pleased to call our system of investigation, and totally without result. Nothing but the confession of some one of these several parties to ike crime will give us what wo want. I will tell you what I will do," he suddenly cried: "Miss Leavenworth has desired me to report to her; she is very anxious tor the detection of the murderer, you know, and oilers an immense reward. Well, I will gratify this desire of hers. Tho suspicions I have, together with my reasons for them, will make an interesting disclosure. I should not greatly wonder if they produced an equally interesting con fession." 1 could only jump to my feet in my horror. ••At all events I propose to try it.

Eleanore is worth that much risk any "It will do no good." said I, ." If Mary is guilty, she will never confess it. If not

" She will tell us who is." "No," sad J, "not if it is Clavering, her husband." , '■ , "Yes," returned he, "even if it is Clavering. her husband. She has not the devotion of Eleanore." That I could but acknowledge. She would hide no keys for the sake of shielding another; po, if Mary were accused, she would speak, Tho future opening before us looked ►ombre enough. And yet in a short time from that, I found myself alone in the busy atrcet, the thought that Eleanore was free, rose above all others, filling and moving me till my walk home in the rain th*t day had become a marked memory of my life. It was only with nightfall that I began to realise the truly critical position in which Mary stood if Mr Gryce's theory was correct. But once seized with this thought, nothing could drive it from my mind. Shrink as I would, it was ever before me, haunting me with tho direst forebodings. Nor though I retired early could I succeed in getting either sleep or rest. All night I lossedon mylpillow, say ing over to myself with drenry iteration, "Something must happen, somerhing will happen, to prevent Mr Gryce doing this dreadful thing." Then I would start up and ask what there wan cou!4 happen, and my mind would run over tho various con tingencies which might occur, as—Mr Clavering might confess; barman might come back ; Mary herself wake up to her position and speak the word I had stcn trembling on her lips for co long. Bnt tur ther thought sliowci) me how unlikely any of these things were to happen, and it wus with a brain utterly exhausted that I fell asleep in the early dawn, to dream I saw Mary standing above Mr Gryce with a pistol in her hand. I was awakened from this pleasing vision by a heavy knock at at the door. Hastily rising, I a^ked who was there. The answer came iv the shape of an envelope thrust under the door. Raising it, I found it to be a note. It was from Mr Gryce, and ran thus; "Como at once; tlaomth is found."

" Hannah found!" " Ho we have reason to think " " NVhen ? where ? by wliom ?" " Sit down and 1 will tell you." Drawing up a chair in a flurry of hope and fear, 1 sat down by Mr Gryce's side. " She is not in the cupboard ;" that pT soiiiipe exclaimed observing without doubt how my eyes roamed about the room in my anxiety and impatience. "We are not absolutely sure that she's anywhere. But word has conic to us that a girl's face be lieved to be Haunah's nas been seen at the upper window of a certain house in—don't start—X , where a year ago she was in the habit of visiting while at the hotel with the Missei Leavenworth. Mow as it ' has already been determined that she left New York, the night of the murc[er, by the Eailroad, though for what point we have been unable to ascer tiin, we consider tbe matter worth inquir ing into." " Hut—" "Jf she is ther?," went on Mr Gryce, "she is secreted ; kept very close. No one except the ioforaaut has ever seen her, nor is there any suspicion among the neigh bors of her being in town." " Hannah secreted at a certain house in 11 ? Whose house?" "MrGryce doweredhjb with one of his grimmest smiles. "The name of the lady she's withisyivci in the communication asßelden; Mrs Amy Jiclden." "Amyßeldon! the name found written on a torn envelope by Mr Clavering's servant girl in London?" "Yes." I made no attempt to conceal my satis faction. "Then we are upon the verge of some discovery; Providence has interfered, and Eleanoro will be saved. But when did you f>et this word ?" . "Last night, or rather this morning; Q brought it. " It was a message then to Q ?" " Yes, the result of his moleings while iv R , I suppose." " Who was it signed by?" " A respectable tinsmith who lives next door to Mrs B." "And is tlrs the first you knew of an Amy Belden living in It ." " Yes." "Widow or wife?" "Don't know; don't know anything about her but her name." " But you. have already sent Q to make inquiries?" "No; the affair is a little too serious for him to manage, that is, I hesitate trusting him alone. A contingency might arise when brains would be useful, and though Q has enough of the prying sort, he is tot equal to great occasions, and might fail just for the lack of a keen mind to direct him," " In short—" " I wish you to go. Since I cannot be tbcro myself, 1 know of no one else suffi ciently up to the affair to conduct the enterprise to.a successful issue. You see it is not enough to find and identify the girl. The present condition of things demands that the arrest of so important a witness as this should bo kept secret if possible. Now for a man to walk into a ft range house in a distant village, find a girl who is secreted there, frighten her, cajole her, force her, as the case may be, from her hiding-place to a detective's office ia New York, and all without the know ledge of the next door neighbour if possible, requires judgment, brains, genius. Then tbe woman who conceals her! She must have her reasons for doing so, and they must be known. Altogether the ail'air is a delicate one. Do you think you can manage it." " I would at least like to try." Mr Gryce settled himself on the sofa. "To think what pleasure I am losing on your account!" he murmured, gazing re proachfully at his helpless limbs. "But to business. How suon can you start ?" " Immediately." " Good ! there is a train leaves the depflt at 12.15. Take that. Once in It it will bo for you to determine upon some means for making Mrs Belden's acquaint i ance without arousing her suspicious. Q, who will follow you, will hold himself in readiness to render you aoy a*si"tanoe you may require, only this thing is to be understood; as he will doubtless go in disguise, you are not to recognise him, much less interfere with him and his plans, till ho gives you leave to do so, by some preconcerted signal. You aro to work in your way and he in his, till circumstances seem to requite mutual sup port and countenance, 1 cannot even say whether you will see him or not; he may find it necessajy to keep out of the way ; but yon may be sure of one thing, that he will know where you are, and the display of—, well, let us say a red silk handkerchief —have you got such a thing ?" " I will get one." II Will bo regarded by him as a sign that you deaire his presence or assistance,

whether it be sliown about your pcrwu • at the window of your room." a 'f ; " And these are all the instructions, ' J can give me ?" I said as he paused, '•Yes,l don't know of anything eU«' y I must depend largely upon your owa d? 1 : cre'ion.and the exigencies of the tootiw " ' I cannot tell you now what to do v, ; own wit will be the best guide, (jS " possible let me cither hear from you M !~ you.by to-morrow at this time," ,*& And h« handed me a cipher in mj,. 1 should wish to telegraph. ■«• I

BOOK III.—HANNAH.

XXVII. AMY BELDEN. A merrier man Within the limits of becoming mlrll) I never spent an hour's talk withal n —Love's Labour i^ ' It was a bleak day in April that I t tep«d . '■' for tbe second time in my life, from (U cars at It and took my way doimtL broad, well-populated street leadingloL hotel and its surrounding villas. No|i|«.i ' lbad any intent.on this time ofmfcJ even a casual stop at that attractive^riZ,' tor New York pleatura-seckeis. llykp,: ; j tion was rather to feck out our client u v! Moncll, and from him learu the bcjtiiiT ' ncr of approaching Mrs Belden. Tola! iiotipitiljle mansion, tueu, on ilie ronjv V , J. hastened, and was so fortunate!! ■ to meet him driving into town behi^fti 'H famous trotter Alfred; an encounter in ' may so caHit,wliich sttuckmeasp^jjyj : ;:; fortunate, (living me as itdid, ampleoppot! r tunity for a tole-li-ute conversaiion S■ ? him, without imposing upon me the dtU which a visit at lii.s house musfhave ntta, sarily occasioned. " Well, and how goes the day!" was tie exclamation of my friend as, the fiteetJMi ' passed, we drove rapidly into town. " t? " Your part in it-goes pretty smoothly* i: ' returned i; and thinking I could ceTei hope to win his attention to my attain till ; ; I had satisfied him in regard to bisowi,! told him what I kDCiv concerning hi* baae then pending; a subject so prolific, i question ana answer, that we hadidrijn Vi twice around the town before he lemeffl. •', kretl that lie liad a letter to post, was an important one admitting of m delay, we hastened at onco tothepost-ofc, where he went in, leaving me outside to watch tha rather meagre stream of goers and comets who at that time of the & - make the post-office of a country towa their place of rendezvous. Among that for some reason I especially noted om middle-aged woman, why I cannot say; her appearance was anything hut remait. able. And yet when she came ouNith two fetters in her hand, one in a large aid ; one in a small envelope, and meeting iy'it; eye hastily drew them under her sbawl, £ found myself wondering what was inter letters and who she could be, that tie casual glance ot a stranger should uncon. scioasly move her to an action so suspfc cious. But Mr Monell's reappearance it tho same moment diverted my attention, '■■■■ and iv the interest r.f the conversation that followed, I soon forgot both the woman and her letters. For determined that Is should have no opportunity to revert to > that endless topic, a law case, I exclaim^ with the iirst crack of tin whip—"-JW* I knew there -was something I WMtedto ask you. Are you acquainted wi&*BT»f one in this town by the name of BeUeSr "There is a widow Belden iv town; V don't know of any other." "Is her fiist name Amy?" " Yes, Mrs Amy Belden." "That is iho one," said I. "TiWiofc [ she, what is slu-, and what is the extool, ,: r your acquaintance with her?" "Well," .said he, "1 cannot oncsiye j:, why y»u ahonM re interested iv BTi'dili|jp^ entintntcd piece of commonplace goodcea as she is but seiing you ask, I have 10 objection to telling you that she is thenrf respectable relict of a decfased Cabintt maker of this town; that she .lives ins little house down the street there, and'ilisl if you have any forlorn old tramp to be lodged over night, or any destitute family of little ones to be looked after, .'•lie is the one to go to. As to knowing her, I know her :>s I do a dozen oilier membcis of oui church there up over the hill. When I see her I spe.tk to her, and that is all." - 9| "A respectable widow, you say. Any family ?" "No; lives alone, has a Jit tie income, I;| believe; must have, to put the money on. | the plate she always doc 3 ; but spends her time in plain towing and such decdi o£ charity as one with small means, but willing heart, can find the opportunity ot doing in a town like thi«. But why in the I name of wonder do you ask ? '• \ "Business," said I, "business. Mrs Belden—don't mention it by the way— hu - got mixed up in a case of mine, anal felt it due to my cariosity, if not to my purse, to find out something about her. And I am not satisfied yet, ' The fact is, I would give something, Montll, for the opportu nity of studying this woman's [character. I Now, couldn't you manage to get me intro duced into her house in some way that would make it possible and p'oper for me • to converse with her at my leisure? Busi-i ness would thank you if you cculd." . 1 "Well, I don't know; I suppose it could he done. She used to take lodgers in tbe summ<# when the hotel was full, and might be induced to give a bed to a friend of nune who is very anxious to be near tbe post office on account of a business telegram be is expecting and which when it comes will I demand his immediate attention." AndMri> Monnell gave me a sly wink of his eye, little imagining how near the mark he had really struck. " You need not say that. Tell her that j; I have a peculiar dislike to sleeping in. • 5 public hou*e, and that you knew of no one who could better accommodate me for that; short time I desire to be in town, than her- ,-,■ self." . 1 "And what will be said of my hospital lity in allowing you, under those circum-^ i-tances, to remain in any other heuse than^ my own?" ■■:; " I don't know," returned I; " veryhpm things no doubt, but I guess your hospita lity can stand it." m 1 ."Well, if you (persist, we will see what 1 can be done. And driving up to a neat white cottage of homely but sufficiently at-* tractive appearance, he stopped. "This is her house," said he, jumping., to the ground, "let's go iv and sea what we can do." Glancing up at the windows,which were nil closed sive the two on the verandah overlooking the street. I', thought to my self, " If she has anybody in hiding here, ■whose presence in the house she desires to keep secret, it is folly to hope she will take me in, however well recommended I may come." But yielding to the example of mv friend, I alighted in my turn and fol lowed him up the short, grass-bordered walk to the front door. "As she has no servant, she will cometo the door herself, so be ready," said he as ho knocked. I had barely time to observe that the curtains to the window at myleft suddenly dropped, when a hasty step made itself heard vithin. and a quick har.dthrew|opea the door, and I saw before me the woman Nvhom I had observed at the post-office, »nA

STixK SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, SEPTEMBER 9, 1882