THE WEIRD SISTERS.

By RICHARD BOWLING. Author of " The Mystery op Killard."

A ROMANCE.

PART HI: HUSBAND AND WIFE

CHAPTER VI,

PENNILESS,

AS Grey drove home he thought: ""Was ever man so lucky as I ! She did not de nounce me. She did not give her name. She did not mention mine. She did not tell the nature of the injury she had been the inno cent cause of, and I was in time to prevent surprise being aroused by the contents of that packet. Was ever man so lucky as I!

" I think I half convinced Maud the scene between her and me was a rehearsal. If I have not, I am sure to be able to do so later on. Maud had no suspicion that woman was my mother : and if she had she could in no way trace tny manner to the presence of my mother. Even if the dis covers later on it was my mother, i shall be able to find out some back door, some means of escape. It is time enough to say good day to the devil when you meet him j so 1 ■wi 1 not waste time in providing" lor what may never arise.

" I his parcel is money, of course. It is a large slice out of the sales of the annuity, house, and furniture. 1 don't know what the s>ross sum was, but I should not bo sur prised if she left half of it with Maud. Let me see."

He cut the cord, and opened out the parcel. There were two or three fold:; of Drown paper; then came a bundle of notes, and in the middle one note doubled up, acci in this innermost note four sovereigns. seven shillings, and a fourpeuny-piece. There were seven one thousand pound notes, three one hundred, and eiuht tens, making seven thousand three hun dred and eighty pounds in notes, and four pounds seven shillings and fourpeuce in coin ; in all, seven thousand three hundred and eighty-four pounds, seven shillings aud fourpence.

Grey knit his brows, counted the money over asjain, twisted the gold and silver in quisitively through hia fingers, and uttered an exclamation of dissatisfaction.

'■Of course," he thought, "they could have traced these notes to her as easily as though her name "was written on the back of each. I can now cut off their history as long as I like. I cannot understand how she got so much for tne lot. Double this would be a thing far above my estimata. At the very outside I don't think the three things weie worth more than ten thousand. It might have gone to eleven thousand. I should not have thought so much, certainly not a penny more. This would be about two-thirds of eleven thousand — a trifle more than two-thirds. Can this woman have given Maud two-thirds of what the property brought, and left herself with short of four thousand pounds, when she may live ten or a dozen years yet ? Mon strous !

"My mother, upwards of seventy years of age, with a bankrupt son and faur thousand pounds,—a hundred and fifty pounds a year ! Monstrous 1 I'll go to JSvans and find out the facts of the case, and relievo myself of this heavy suspi cion."

He drove to Evans's. The solicitor was in an outer office unions.' his clerks. Grey waa too impatient to wait until they could reach the private room, and too cautious to allow Evans to answer his question aloud. He took up a sheet of paper and wrote on it:

" What were the net proceeds of my mother's Bale ?"

He handed this to Evans. The solicitor wiote some figures and re turned the paper to Gvey. The banker turned down the side of piper •with the figures, and went to the window. With his back to the attorney and clcika he read the figures. The paper fell from his hand. He raised his face against the thin winter light. He folded his arms tightly across his cheat. A convulsive moveoieut began at the shoulders and descended throughout his body. He swayed to and fro violently.

Evans raised his head, and saw some thing was wrong. He stole softly behiud the banker, and placed his hand on the other's arm.

••Come this way. Come to my private room," whispered the solicitor gently. Grey moved away mechanically. Even ■with the attorney's assistance he walked unsteadily.

When he had reached the private room Evans pressed Grey into a chair, locked the door, and said :

"Kcst awhile. Best a while, and then tell me."

Grey rose to his feet laboriously, as if his joints were frozen. He placed a hand on each shoulder of Evans, and said, in a heavy husky voice ;

" Evans—my God ! Evans—do yon know what has happened t" " No."

" My mother,upwards of seventy years of afie, has left Danctord and gone I don't Know where; and she has not a roof to cover her, a meal to eat, or a shilling in her pocket"

The 41m Evans bad written on that piece of paper was seven thousand three hundred and eighty-four pound?, sercn shillings and foarpence. " Evans, she hasn't kept a copper. By this time she may be without a shilling." ..Half an hour elapsed before Grey found inself able to command himself sufficiently o face the public eye. Evans offered to do anything in hia power. He undertook to find Mrs Grey and ascer tain her condition ; but Grey refused- all help. He felt convinced his mother would allow nothing to be done for her by him. If she beggared herself to pay some of the stolen money, it was not likely she would accept money f com him who had committed the theft. When he left Evans's office he walked slowly ana sadly towards the Bank. It was now dusk. He went to his private-room, and, flinging himself into a chair, Bat loDg gazing at the fire. He had, ha had fancied, banished .all thought of his mother from his mind for ever. He had flattered himself he had cast off all his old affection, so that it might be no longer a stumbling-stone in, the path of his ambition. But this horrible discovery of the old woman's absolute des titution could not be resisted. His mother a homeless wanderer among strange reople in the winter time I Unen durable thought! She to whom he had looked up with love and reverence all ghis life, who had soothed and cheered him in the little griefs of his boyhood and the trials of his manhood, now without a fire side of her own ! He had himself never known what poverty, actual poverty, was ; but he had heard and read of it, and had come in contact with it as a man connected with the treasurership held by him. There were people ia the world at this moment who were hungry and had not a penny to buy bread. Had not a penny such as this.

He had taken a coin out of his pocket, and now held it in his left hand, tie was bent forward ; his right elbow rested on his kuee ; his head drooped over the left palm, in which lay the coin. People who starved for want of such a coiii as this ! Under privation it was the children and the old people succumbed first. People of middle life like him lived through sieves and famines when the young and the old died. To think of people being hungry for want of such a coin as this ! He had seen the old hungry. As pre sident of the Coal Fund he had visited poor old people. He had seen their dropped jaws, their dim eyes, their feeble gait, their degraded humanity. He had seen women, old women who had once occupied comfortable positions, hobbling along the frozen streets with tickets for coal in their hands, while boys followed jeering at them. He had heard these re spectable oldwomen utter words of gratitude so humiliating to themselves that he had felt to listen was more the punishment of a crime than the reward of a humane action. ■

Once at a Christmas-time he went to see a poor widow on behalf of whom applica tion had been made to the fund. Her husband bad been a well-to-do tradesman of JJaneford. He found the poor ceature in a most pitiable plight. She had nothiog but a bundle of straw for a bed, and the rasped remains of an old patchwork counterpane. There were two broken chairs, a delf cup, and no saucer. This was a full inventory of the widow's good?. The old woman Bald she did not feel hungc half so much as cold. She was used to hunger all the year round, now and then; but the winter cold Wins terrible. hungry and cold, y</u were tortured from within and without. For twelve montbs she had not tasted hot meat, and for six months neither egjis nor butter. Sprats were then three halfpence for two [jounds, and bread three halfpence a pound. Two pounds of sprats, two pounds of bread, aad the use of a neighbour's fire, carried her over two days very nicely, but that came to fourfience-haltpenny ; and when she had paid eigliteenpence a week for the room, it was not easy to find fourpence-halfpenny every two days for living. In coming away he gave her half-a-sovereign. She threw herself down on her knees to him, and thauked him and Providence that she should now have warm stockings and taste meat once more before she died. That thin old woman had thrown herself on her knees to him because she was hungry and cold, and he had given her half-a -sovereign ! Thrown herself on her knees to him ! When he came home he told Bee, and Bee had wept and sent the old woman clothes. He told his mother, too, about this old woman, and his mother had gone to see her and sat with her, and never lost sight of her until the poor woman died.

"What changes since then ! Bee had gone, and his mother was a pauper fugi tive.

His stately keen-minded mother a penni less fugitive ! Intolerable) ! Xnere must be some mistake. JtTancy for a moment his proud high-spirited mother being obliged to stoop and accept help ! Fancy such a thing, she who had always had a full larder and purse at trie service of royal generosity ! The mere idea was pre posterous .on the face of it. And yet there were the figures of Evans. His motfcer prostrate at the feet of a stranger, thankiug him for food ! •• Oh, God, who is our Master, and who is the Master of our joys and our woes, afflict me with what Thou wilt, but take away that vision ! Take away that vision from before my eyes ! Give me all other paina but that sight, the result of my misdoings." He had risen, and was praying with all the might of his soul, his face and hands thrown up, and the tones of terrible beseeching in his voice. Suddenly he sank to his knees and drew his arms swiftly and strongly across his eyes; swayiug hia body to and fro, he moaned out in piteous entreaty : " Oh, God of mercy, show mercy tome,' and turn away from tue my mother's eyes !' There waa a knocktat the door. He staggered feebly to his feet, and took a few hasty inspirations before asking : " Wno's there?" " I. sir;" "What do you want?" " The mail is going out, sir." '"Well?" " Have you any letters to go ?" " No, Doughty." " But there's the Castle bag, sir, I want the letters out of that." "True; thank you for reminding me of them." He opened the door. "Here is the key." He handed it through the door, adding : " I am most particularly engaged. Let no one come to me." He retired from the door feebly. He went back to the fire and sac down. In half an hour he rang his bell. The porter entered. " Are the letters posted ?" "Yes, sir." "All gone?" " Yes, sir." " That will do." To himself he thought with his band on his brow : " I forgot something about the Castle letters. I for get still what it was. I should have—l re member now. Well, it does not make much difference,"

CHAPrER VII. LOSING. Foil a few days after the meeting between Grey and his mother at the Castle, he did not go to the Island. Something repelled him. The thought of the Castle made him chill and uncomfortable now. He had never gone so far as to try and persuade himself he wbs ia love with Maud. He never pretended to himself he felt more than a mild interest in her. The nature of the circumstances surrounding him and impelling him towards Maud had almost wholly obliterated the personality of the girl. She was a minus quantity in the equation of his life. Could he bring her over to the other side, the mious would become a plus, and he should be saved. He was too much Impressed with the necessity of winning her to regard her personality with much interest. Now ha seemed to have receded further from her. He was no leas impressed with the necessity of winning her than before, but between her and him had come of late a shadow, .stretching from that interview at which his mother, Maud, and himaelt had assisted.

At first this shadow was vague, indis tinct, a source of indefinable uneasiness rather than absolute pain. Gradually, hour by hour after that interview, his sub sequent discoveries in the fly, and at Evans's office, the appearance of vagueness disappeared, the repelliog image too* abso lvte form, aad between the girl and himself flitted the form of a feeble, bewared mother. "

He had made no effort to trace Mrs Grey. He knew nothing on earth would induce her to take aid from him. He knew she could not he reached indirectly, for she would suspect any side approach to be of his contriving. When she would not keep a shilling of her own honest money to buy bread, there was no likelihood ot her receiv ing stolen money from hia hand.

'■'I have already sacrificed two women am I about to sacrifice a third ? ' He put this question to himself often, but took little interest in the answer. If any other means of extricating himself offered, he would have abandoned his design of marry ing Maud. He saw no other loophole of escape. "It I don't marry Maud, soonlr or later it will be found out I have made fraudulent uses of my power of attorney, and they will seize me, search the Bank and the Manor, and—hang me out of one of the crossbars of that tank - always sup posing I do not take the liberty of cheat ing the hangman by making away with myself."

He began to feel jaded, and people saw ckarjges in him, and askea il he was quite well. When not racked by dread or torn by remorse, a strange langour fell upon him, and he could not rouse himself to do any thing not absolutely necessary. In these languid moments he would thiak to turns-elf : " 1 have been overtrained by crime, and I am not capable of fighting as of old."

The first day he called at the Castle after meetiug his mother there, Maud could not he seen. She sent down Mrs Graut to say she hoped Mr Grey would excuse her, as she had a headache, and Mrs Grant had recommended her to keep to her room.

This was an agreeable disappointment. He had come to the Island and requested he might see Maud, not as a matter of likiug at the moment, but as part of a scheme of self-protection laid down when full ot life and vigour, and now carried out wiih diminished lorces.

He formally examined the work upon which the men were engaged, and took an early leave of the Island.

A meeting with Maud that day would have been too much for him. He did not feel eqml to urging his suit; allusion might have been made to his manner on the last occajsion.and he felt he could not carry oil" the fiction of the imaginary dispute of the will with a hand sufficiently light and firm.

He had now a vague fear—it weot beyoud fear, and assumed the settled form of conviction—that his explanation of his violence had not satisfied Maud. She might really have been indisposed, but of old so slight an inaisposition as headache would not have excluded him from her presence. He was quite sure Maud had told him the truth, and that his mother had divulged nothing prejudicial to him, but this was not all. His mother may have divulged nothing, and yet his manner, his terror at the sight of her, his violence when she had gone, and his subsequent statement that litigation was not impos sible, might have created an impression not to be removed easily from the miad of the girl.

He allowed a few days more to elapse before calling again. Mrs Grant came to him and said Miss Midharst was so miserably wretched and unwell she must ask Mr Grey to be good enough to excuse her not receiving him. " L have been very unfortunate with Miss teidharat of late," said the banker, with a smile to the little widow.

" She is so nervous and excitable," s»id Mrs Grant, who seemed uneasy and dis concerted.

" Until quite lately I have had the pleasure of neeing Miss Midharst daily. I have not been able to come here so often as of old, and when I do come I am sp unfortunate as to find Miss Midharst laid up." There was complaint in his tone.

Mrs Grant felt exceedingly awkward. Maud had told her of Mr Grey's extraor dinary conduct at their last interview. At her suggestion Maud had written to Sir William and avoided au interview with the banker. Maud had had a headache when he called last, but it was not bad enough to prevent her seeing him if nothing unusual had happened. To day she was not unusually nervous, bat she dreaded an interview with the banker so much she became hysterical when his name had been announced. Still Mrs Grant's old feeling for Mr Geey could not bo put aside in a minute, and now that she was face to face with him who had been so useful and so kind, and found him complain ing of exclusion from thepresencso? her over whose fortunes the dead baronet had made him guardian, she felt powerless and wretched. She said, in an unsteady voice and confused manner :

•' i am sure I am sorry you should have been twice disappointed in seeing Mi«s Midharst. It is unfortunate. But I hope you will notthink she intends anydisrespect to you. I know nothing is further from her thoughts," Grey took the widow's hand gently in his. He felt conscious he was not as strong as formerly. He had now no friend in tbe world. A woman, a widow, had been his greatest friend. iJe knew Mta Grant meant him well.

" Mrs Grant," he said, ■' I am sure I have a sincere friend in you."

" I am sure you have," she answered tremulously. •* Will you do me a great favour ?" " There is no one in the world, except Maud, for whom I would ao soon do all I can," she said earnestly. " You will be candid with me, I know. Yon will be candid with ma because yoa

co old not be otherwise with* anyone, and you will answer my question as a favonr ?" "If I can I will; you may rely up on that."

" I knew I was right. My question is : Has anythiag occurred to make Miss Mid harst disinclined to meet me t"

" She is not very well." " You were good enough to tell me that some time ago.. My question has reference* to something else. Has anything of a personal nature occurred to makeMifis Mid harst disinclined to meet ma ?"

" You know, Mr Grey, that when Sir William was hero Maud made a promise to him."

"Yes. That she would look upon him as her personal guurdian. Is it to that you refer?"

"It is. I believe Miis Midharst wishes to consult her cousin on some subject of importance. She has written to him."

" And will not receive me until she nets his reply ? Is that what 2am to under stand, Mra Grant ?" Grey's voice quavered and his whole body shook. How bad that letter escaped him ?

" I do not think Maud will be quite strong enough to see you for a tew days more."'

"That is, until she hears from her cousin ?"

"Until she sees him."

'' Sees him, ! What do you mean ?'' "She wrote him, asking him to come back, if he could."

"That is not true. I never caw the letter," he whispered. " Ye?. She wrote him the day she saw you last, and he is coming back. He has telegraphed to her saying so." " The day she saw me last ! The day I met another woman talking to her ?" " Yes." S

Was it at the suggestion of that woman she wrote for Sir William to come home ?"

" No : that lady did not, as far a? I can hear, mention Sir William's name."

" And that was the day," said Grey, letting fall Mrs Grant's hand and pressing it against his throbbing forehead—" that was the day I forgot the bag. How soon is Sir Alexander expected here 2" "Sir William you mean." ■' Ah, yes; Sir William I mean, of course. I forgot -I forgot!"

"We don't know exactly when he may be here, but he will certainly not be longer than a fortnight." "And between this and then Miss Mid harst will not see me?"

He still had his hand on his brow. She did not answer.

Without taking any further notice of her he walked feebly out of the room. For an hour he wandered aimlessly about the Castle grounds. There were men at work, but he took no notice of them. When it grew dusk he crossed over in a boat to the mainland, and set out to walk home.

The cool air and the walking gradually improved his tone, and little by little he be came iarniliar with the new aspect of affairs. He was conscious of mental indifference, weakness, and numbness —he did not know exactly what it was. 'lhoughts and ideas and things had lost half their values to him. He felt like a man who wakes for the firtt time in a prison where he is to pass his life, only the prisoner's heart is afllicted with the memory ot a better past. Grey, as he walked along, did not once turn his eyes back. He kept them fixed rigidly forward. In the immediate future he saw he should lose all influence at the Castle. The moment Sir William came home his suspi cions would be aroused. He would make inquiries, and find not a single shilling of Sir Alexander's money in the books of"the .bank ot .England.

Then, would come ruin and deith, or death and ruin—put it either way. He was beaten. He confessed it to himself. Discovery could not be three weeks off. There was no loophole—no means of escape. The days of abduction were dea-i and buried long ago. He could not carry Maud away forcibly and marry her. He had. by law, no control over her person. She would not see him until Sir William's return. Most likely she was acting under the young man's advice in not seeing him.

a month ago he was keener, and would have felt angiy at the interference of this young man and the stubbornness of this fiirl; but he was past all that now. He was leaten,^ beaten beyond tall hope of retrieving his fortune. His life was forfeit, jiiis name would be branded for ever in the town where it had been almost worshipped for years. And when he had died by his own hand, and all had been discovered, hl3 mother, a. wanderer on the land, would, as she sank into a pauper's grave, learn the enormity of his crime, ana call out that the na of having brought such a monster into the world might be taken away from her in consideration of the wrongs he had done her.

JMo ! no! no I Ten thousand times No 1 His mother should never hear the awful words : " Henry Walter Grey found guilty of Wife Murder," or, " Discovery of the body of Mrs Henry Walter Grey, with a history of her murder by he© hus band."

No ; that must never be. But how was he to prevent it? Only one way re mained.

If he could hide the embezzlement he could hide the murder. There was now only one way of hiding the fraud : he muot throw himself on the mercy of Miss Midharst and her cousin. The moment Sir William returned, he should make a full confession. While there is life there is hope, and that was not a foolish hope. Sir William was young and chivalric. Sis William would listen to hi 3 prayer and show mercy. CHAPTER VIII. "I AM HE. FIEE." Thk morning after Gre> had been at the Castle, he awoke cold and depressed. The magnitude of the misfortune just come upon him was more apparent than the evening before. Up to yesterday he had been fighting to defeat the past and render the future glorious. Henceforth all thought of glory must be cast aside, and the struggle conducted solely with a view to prevent fatal disgrace. He had lost the atake, and ran a grave risk of losing his lite. He had been playing against Sir William Midharst. Now he was playing against the hangman. The day of the baronet s arrival was not known. The young man must puss through Daueford on his way to the Castle. More than likely he would call at the "War finger Hotei," to leave his luggage there before setting out for the Island.

Gtey went to the " Warfinger Hotel," saw the landlord, told Mm Sir William was expected borne ; and requested him to send instantly to the Bank word of the baronet's arrival.

He felt queer to-day. That old sensation of everything being far away and of little interest to him had come back upon him fourfold. He went through the routine business of the Bank with as little interest as a copying-clerk. He signed papers with out reading them, and did not understand thoHc he read.

And now day after day the banker lived without change or adventure. All his life he had been a man of action, a leader, and now he was wearily waiting, waiting in

weak hope haunted by fierce terrors. He felt his physical health declining uuder the ordeal; but he bad no alternative. At last one afternoon, as he whb sitting alone in hia private office.a messenger came from the " Warfinger Hotel" announcing the return of Sir William. The baronet had|just arrived and ordered luncheon, so that iv all likelihood he would be at the hotel for au hour or two.

(irey lose heavily and talked to the hotel with a misgiving heart. He carried in his hand his small clack bag. What reason had he to think this young man would take a merciful view of the case ? All his pride was gone now, except tae pride in a good ut»me he did not deserve. He would crawl on his knees in private to this young man, rather than lower his front a _ jot before the public. If he could wiu over this young maa he might save Jus name. It was not the hang, mau he dreaded most. It was not death. It vas the groans and execrations of people over whom he once held imperial sway, and by whom he bad been regarded as the high* priest of humanity and justice. _ When he arrived at the hotel, he sent in. hi>< card and was instantly admitted. The young mau fixed his dark dreamy eyes upon tbe other as he entered, rose blowly from his chair, and held out his hand freely, saying : 111 am very much obliged to you for call ing. I wanted to see you particularly." This was unexpected. Grey thought Sir William would refuse to meet bioi until after a visit to the Castle. What did the young man know ? Grey said : " I have to speak to you on a very im portant matter indeed, and I would wish to tpenk to you about it at once." "I am quite at yeur service for an hour. Sic down. You are not looking as well as I should like to see so good a. friend." "Friend!" sighed Grey. "Don't use that word again until I have finished," A quick look of present interest came in to the dreamy eyes. The baronet said :" I am ready to near." " I have been told by Mrs Grant that you have come home to consult with Miss fldidharst about some important matter I do not know what, and I do not seek to know. Before you see Miss Midbaret, I want to say to you some words of the deepest importance, and I want you to per mit me to—lock the door." He was grave and collected in manner, and as he said the last words he waved his hand softly towards the door. "You may lo;k the door," said Sir William, taking au easy-chair, and relaps ing iuto bis dreamy manner. The banker walked slowly to the door, locked it deliberately, aud then came back to the window at which the young man was sitting. Theu ho sat down on a chair oppo site Sir William, having placed his bag on a small tauie that stood oetween them. The day was bright and clear. Pust the wall of the hotel through which that win do «v looked ran the Weealade. It was ebb tide, and now and thea down the river shot a small buat or glided a barge, while from the upper wharves came the sound of chains and tackles, and the hoarse hoot of the ateambo,!'. blowing off steam. For a few second* Grey sat silent, renting his Head upon his hand. At last he spoke :. "You have been asked ticomobacg from Egypt to pive advice to Mis 3 Midharst on some sul.ject of importance. You are by your relationship with her, and by her own agreement with you, the guardiau of her person. 1 am by the will oi her father the guardian of her fortune. Yours is a precious trust." • Grey paused here to give the young man an opportunity of saying something, Sir William merely said : " I'bat is so." " What I have further to say to yon," continued Grey, "is in the nature, Sir William, of confession. A confession so degrading aud humiliating that I have debated a thousand times whether I should make it or put an end to my life." "I am sincerely glad you adopted the alternative of c.mhdiDg in me." " ti-.r William, what do you consider the greatest calamity which could befall Misa Midharst !" "Keally I have not thought of such aque.^tioa, and could not answer it off hand." " What would you do to the man who behaved in au. uuscruplous manner to Miss Midharst?" fcu'klenly the young man lost his lan^iiiu manner, sat bolt upright in his ctrnir, Inoked with a strong present interest m his eye at the banker, and demanded sharply : What do you meau ?" Grey raised his head, and for the first time tbe eyes of the two men met. "A t-rible injury, anirrepaiable injury; who bad inflicted upon her an injury so great that the sacrifice of his life could not atoue for it, not the devotion of a lifetime undo it?' " Shoot him. Where is he ?'' Grey opened the black bag, took out the revolver, aud holding the muzzle pointed at his own breast, handed it to the baronet, saying :"1 am he. Fire." 1 he young man sprang to his feet, seized', the revolver, and keeping the banker covered with it, said thickly through hie clenched teeth :" A moment. Wait a moment." For some seconds there was neither motion nor word. The one man stood over the other, the revolver in his band, jhis linger on the trigger. ••I have thought of Maud until lam, ready to shoot you here. Wow speak. What waa it ?" "She is a beggar," "How?" " I have stolen all her fortune. I sold out the Consols and used the money. The money ib all gone." " Have you confessed all ?' "Yes ; all." " Arid are you ready to die for that?'' "I am." " 1 heic is nothing for you to add about Maud?" " No. I have told you all candidly." Tbe young man seized Grey by the throat aud pulled him upon his feet. For a moment he swayed the banker to and fro. " Not this. Fire if you are a man, Not this." "Damnation seize you for a fool ! You. terrified me about nothing " He flung Grey violently from him. "About nothing 1 I told you all her money is all gone." " And when did I tell you I wanted her money?" " You never said anything to me about it." "You are a fool, sir, aud have terrified me for nothing." Sir William stooped down, picked up the revolver, which hod fallen from his hand in the scullle, and raising the window quietly dropped, it into the Weeslade. Then turning to the baoker, he said : "Who knows of this?" ■ " Only yon and I and my mother." "That is true, is it?"

" it is." "Miss Midharst has no suspicion of it?" "Not the slightest. >>nly three people on earth know it. The three I have named.' " Kesp the secret where it is, and meet me here to-morrow at noon. I shall then let you know what I intend doing." {To be continued.)

STAR SATURDAY SUPPIjEMENT, AUGUST 18, 188S,

2



NEW STOUT. JJEW gjTOKY! J^BW gTORY! IN THE STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT OF AUGUST 25TH "Will appear the opening Chapters of a New and Sensational Story, entitled "OUT OF THE STORM; OK, Grace Wray's Trials." BY MAJOR ALFRED ROCHEFORT. Intending Readers shonld see that they seouro Next Satchday's issue, in which the Story begins.