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Show I Anei w in as SwiMv" Glide Tho Opportunity of Your Life Now Prosonts Itsolf, at tlio Salt Lake Dm Goods Branch. nn 1 4 ttoups on 1 OPPORTUNITIES HAVE LONG LIMBSSO Awake! and take advantage of it 'ere it is too late. Continue!, Jo. fi'om 12. D:irke hutl never heretofore reKcpp-.'garded money as a supreme object of ambition. But tilings were changed viih lii:n now. lie was an ontcaset from society; mankind was hostile to him; in tho unequal contest he was disposed to improve whatever advantages came in Lis way. If, then, millions of money were within Lis reach he was not in a uxwhI to let them escape. I lero Keppel save a short laugh. The millions probably Lad no existence whatever, except in tho imagination of an insane man. He turned over the pipers once more. Among them was one small document, folded square, that he did not remember policing before. lie was about to pass it ever, but an idle impulse caused him to change his mind and open it. The odd aspect of its contents attracted his attention. It looked something like n long sum in al gebra. Tin to were columns and combinations of letters. There were also written words in the French language. For several minutes Keppel contemplated the paper without a suspicion of its .significance. It was not a sum in e bra. There were no equations; no x or y, no powers or signs. It might be a Memorandum in shorthand or cipher. Ye s it was probably a cipher memoran-t- l sin. 13 ut it was not all in cipher. The words seemi d to be a comment or ex-anaiion. "It strikes mo," said Keppel to "'that I've semi something like this i o.nev. heiv. 'C. Kphl. -- S. lump.' That al-t- him-fs;!- AA. ; f. familiar." All at or.ee ho began to feel in his '.( it with signs of excitement. II re it was the newspaper cutting, n itabiiiig the ciph'T letter found on the p i sen of Harry Trent after his death. A pp. spread it out on his knee and We intend to declare war in early summer, but circumstances may delay. Winter campaign not desired. If successful Solange will bring back treasure. If deKeep him with yon meanwhile. feated we shall leave at once for New York incognito (ngil F.). Empress and son to England. Keep us constantly informed of your movements. Estimate so far as possible whether American sympathies incline toward France or Would it be advisable to Germany. bring about collision between Germany and United States? Is it possible that arrangements can still be made about Mexico? If we miscarry with Germany something must be done to consolidate and stimulate imperial sentiment here. Our hand and seal." The political immorality indicated by this document did not at the time particularly impress Keppel; his interest was monopolized by that part of the letter relating to the treasure. For some minutes his mind staggered in bewilderment at tho suggestion presented to it. It seemed far more incredible now than before that a great fortune should actually bo within his reach. He had dreamed a wild dream of hundreds of thousands of dollars, and it had almost seemed real to him, but now that he heard, as it were, the very jingle of a hundred millions he could net believe it. And yet the evidence that a fortune not less vast lay possibly within a few yards of where he was sitting was more than plausible. The more he examined it the more plausible did it appear. He endeavored to review the situation step If step. He had found a man who manifestly carried some weighty secret on his mind. This man, who was dying of yellow fever, spoke of one Maurice as being dead and as haunting him. Who could Maurice he but the Maurice Solange mentioned in the cipher letter? Maurice, then, according to the letter, had been dispatched in charge of a treasure to America by way of India and the Pacific. It was not uncommon for ships making such a voyage to be visited by yellow fever. Maurice may have died of it, or he may have been murdered. Be that as it might, the man wdiose body lay within there had evidently got hold of the treasure and b:d brought it here. He had said that he meant to dispose of it piece by piece. He had spoken of the emperor. Who could this emperor be but Napoleon? And by whom, unless by Napoleon, could the cipher letter have been written? Napileon, for reasons of it with the anomalous docu-iho uttered a cry of bis own, had determined to send this .it. In a i!iuut-iii .i ; rise his wild anticipa-t- : treasure to some ono in New York. Who that surprise was that person? Tho cipher letter had a had been' fululled. Tlu cipher of Die let ter and the cipher been found in the pocket of Harry Trent. of the document were identical. But There was therefore no escape from the the latter was the key to the former and conclusion that Harry Trent must have i he explanation of it, and by its aid Kep- been the consignee of the treasure. pel could read the mysterious communi- Harry Trent, again, was a dealer in c :u;;i-- e. t cation as easily as he could construe L'reach. CHAPTER VIII. DtdAITEAKANCE. -- . "A k .1 i f Vr .. ; ( ,1 : , - T'.lliVv lie pa.wd, itis mml over his forehead. Cipher writing is so ancient an art t'i'it there is little or nothing to be said about it, and perhaps there are no new n'plier t pes to be invented. The ideal cipher is one that is easily written and reel by thor.j in the secret, and yet is practically undecipherable by outsiders. I n meli a cipher all the imp and labor are expended upon determining its funda-eieiilprinciples of construction. Once ll roe are settled, the practical working of it is simple. The cipher which Keppel was dealing with was of this species, and perhaps lei more nearly perfect ono was ever made. It was based upon the slrueturoof language, and tipui ib mathematical principle that gives dUi'event: values or meanings to a charterer according to its place in a combine iei. 'I bis plan enables words to La v. A o n with much fewer letters than ere contained in tho ordinary alphabet :si to e expressed with not more than ! e b set rs as, one to represent the ' of lie . word, one for tho termina-s, ., for the pirt of speech, one for a !i e.. lain. ei combinations as ion, ght, j.'i, a id so on. Thus, if in the c'p'ier ifcii:si meant writing, then iklui v.eoll m, i writer, ikum written or i ' a:.. i',;lu to write. Further mod-- i .Ae i wi re indicated by the' capital aiel olie rs of a different kind by ;'. j.e.A.A and comuias. A.tiiuid in,t be necessary to carry A. e Pints any further. Enough has A a a! to i liable the reader, if ho he sj mill lei, to work out tho problem. in tie' ouis-- of twenty minutes ll ll toe cljiber letter, which, tliltlS- A: Ir an tin.- French into Kngli.sh, ran a i.A ' .Vii.il! ;ei o uts have been perfected. A';,l.;e ef lee- - .engej-Puuice. Sohlllge. him. Ho P aves J'aris February j o en. Wiil talo; route, mid A l t.rrivit not later than June. Ho '.ill be "I'apb from I'anauia. Send to A. boa i Treason! lit Now r t.i Is.x, ooeealed, as already illl-- ': t d. wenly lniil-i- : ,p; eAioale value, o In case of rob-- ! oiiti.bi i lei lin", ('eiia or aeei.leiit inform in by ( A'. On leeeiving li'e.isure store Unto of (phno) iti iiivate vault. tomni ion, uoo per cent, per annum. I al philo-i-opbi- i: i I I i : e -1 , ! . :.'-d ( i ; . ipii-i'i- -. y precious stones, and was known to be personally acquainted with the French emperor. The pieces of the puzzle fitted into one another like a mosaic. And by a strange fatality Keppel Darke, who had been wrongfully accused of murdering Trent, had, through that accusation, been brought in contact with a fortune Eot inferior to any in the world. But where was the treasure? Was it in the neighborhood? Keppel looked about him. A garden two or three acres in extent, long since gone to seed, adjoined the house. Outside the garden was a waste of 6tunted woodland, extending to the swamp on one side and toward the ocean on the other. To the westward lay a sort of pasture, with a few straggling apple trees growing upon it. The place was a deserted farm, such as is often met with on Long Island, and may not have been inhabited for many years. The treasure was probably buried somewhere about the grounds it might be far or near. Wherever it was, it was worth searching for, and Keppel resolved to examine every square foot of ground within a mile, if necessary, before giving it up. This might take time weeks or even months. Meanwhile, he would have to live in the house; and the first thing to be done was to get the dead man and all his belongings out of it. Cut now the question recurred, how should he make a grave? Though this was a farm, there were no farming implements on it. The soil was sandy, to be sure, but it would take days to make a hole deep enough, with only sticks and stones to dig with; and the body would have become intolerable long before that. As Keppel thought this, his eyes fell upon the swamp, and ho walked down thither. It seemed to bo of considerable extent, and looked more like a shallow pond than a marsh. A few feet out from the shore black, stagnant water lay in the morning sunlight; bushes grew out of it here and there and tufts of rank grass. Keppel picked up a big stone and flung it into the blackness. As it sank quantities of the bubbles rose to the surface. It was an ugly place, and in that foul mud a heavy object might be swallowed up forever. "Why not?" said Keppel to himself. He saw something sticking out of the bushes on tho margin of the swamp at a little distance. Ho approached it and found an old boat, waterlogged and leaky, but still able to float for a while. His mind was now made up. He went back to the house and entered the room w here the body lay wrapped np in its blanket shroud. Grasping the ropes that bound it, ho dragged it across the floor and out of the door. Resting occasionally, he succeeded in dragging it to tho boat, and then, inwardly rev volting at tho task, he lifted it and got it on board. Embarking himself, he hhoved out on the surface of the swamp. The slimy water stole in through the gaping seams of the planks. As quickly as possible ho propelled tho boat ton plaeo where the water deep. He had previously put a heavy Mono in the boat. This ho now fastened to the body with the roi Finally, all being ready, he exerted 'nil his strength and heaved the sinister freight overboard. It sank at once, and the black slime closed over it. Keppel looked down on tho place where it had disappeared. "Rest in peace!" he muttered. Ho pad No. 400, Main St. too. But, after all, uncertainty was worst of all. With nervous hands he unbuckled the step. The key was in the lock and he turned it. As he lifted the lid he closed his eyes. When he opened them he saw some old flannel shirts, carelessly stuffed into the box. He threw them out with feverish impatience. What did he see? A quantity of wax food arranged in rows and layers. There were wax peaches, plums, apples, pears. He thrust his hand into them, groping underneath. There was nothing else but wax fruit in the box. With a cry of rage he grasped a handful of tho fruit and dashed it furiously on the floor. It broke in flashes and gleams of rainbow light. Half a dozen immense diamonds, rubies and sapphires lay sparkling on the bare boards. There were scores of thousands of dollars' worth of precious stones in that one handful. Keppel, with a shrill ejaculation, dropped on his knees on the floor and picked up one of the gems. It was a huge sapphire, and was still partly embedded in the wax that had covered and concealed it. Tie took up another; it was a diamond. He reached over to the box and pulled out an apricot. On breaking it open there was revealed an emerald as largo as an acorn. lie picked up a plum from tho bottom of the box. Within it was another diamond of the finest water. He passed his hand over his forehead. "I am the richest man in the world," he said in a whisper; "the richest man in the world!" . He rose to his feet and walked about the room. He went outdoors and wandered about, staring at the sky, the earth, the sea. The sun shone. The air was soft and warm. He spoke his own name aloud; he repeated parts of the multiplication table; he recited verses of poetry. It was no delusion; he was in his right mind; he was awake. He the house, and there was the box, the wax fruit and tho jewels, just as before. He examined them once more. They were real, there was no mistake. From a helpless vagabond and outcast, an escaped convict, a man supposed to be dead, ho had in a moment He become a hundredfold millionaire. broke into a frantic laugh; he stamped about the room, tossing up his arms and shouting. He flung himself down with his head on the box and burst into sobs and tears. When at length lie arose he was calm and pale. "Olympiii, Olympia!" lie said. "The world cannot part us! All this is yours!" . PAET THEEE CHAPTER It LIFE. IX. TOM EA.NNICK'S VISITOR l.fi 8 I V :,1'A i: 9 "Good mnrnlny, sir," snhl Turn. Near the upper end of Nasau street, in New York, stands a tall building containing business ofiiees. In the year 1N7J this building was regarded as one of the finest in New York and was chiefly by a good class of law-- j yers. The apartment on the iiortbea-- t corner of the top floor bore upon tho ground glass panel of ils doorlhe legend, "Thomas 11. ISauniek, Law Olliee." Mr. Bannick had lived in the building since its erection, but only latterly in his present quarters. He had begun bnsiness in one of the largo suits of ofiiees on the third landing, but, for one reason BEN. D. LUCE, or another, the larger rewards of his the dled himself ashore, and returned to the house with a feeling of relief. It remained to burn the clothing ami bedding. He first placed a quantity of dry wood on the hearth, then heaped the clothing upon it and set fire to the pile. Next he removed the bedding from the bedstead. The latter was nothing but a rough framework of planks, apparently taken from the barn ami nailed together in a careless fashion. In taking off the mattress he saw in the cavity beneath it a small oblong chest It looked shabby and battered, and was secured by a double strap, with a loop attached to fasten it on the shoulders. It must be, Keppel supposed, the box in which thy dead man had kept his wardrobe. It must go on the (ire with the rest. He laid hold of tlie strap, to lift the box out. It was unexpectedly heavy. He took both hands to it and jerked it up; it came down on the floor with a bang that jarred the house. "What can be in it?" said Keppel, pausing to take breath. Then a thought came to him that turned him pale and trembling. What if this should be tho chest that contained the treasure? He had taken it so for granted that the box was buried outdoors that this possibility had not at first occurred to him. But now that it had occurred to him, it seemed quite natural.' A dying man could not put his treasure in a safer place than beneath his bed. As long as he remained alive he would know that it was safe. Now that the critical moment had arrived Keppel felt an almost invincible reluctance to take the next step. The fear of disappointment, which had hitherto seemed insignificant, now dominated everything else, and Keppel doubted whether he could endure to find it confirmed. On the other hand, the idea of success was so stupendous that he feared that C TO SPEAK. occu-cupie- d - ' profession had not come to him, and, not being weighted down by gold in bis pockets, he had gradually risen from one hVx.r to another, until at length he had found himself, architecturally speaking, above all his fellow tenants. To go higher was impossible. He was not yet light enough to live in the empty air, although if things went on as they had been going it looked as if he woald have to live on it. Because a man is poor in New York it does not always follow that lie is a scoundrel, or even that he is incompetent. Tom Bannick, at all events, was neither. He was born of a good North of Ireland family, and had been thoroughly educated at Dublin university. After a supplementary career in law he came to America with ten thousand pounds in his pocket, and an impression that he wis going to make a large fortune. Curiosity and a temper hospitable to adventure drew him to the western states, where for a dozen years he had very lively and interesting time of it. He twice lost all his money, and once was worth a couple of hundred thousand dollars. These vicissitudes, it must be confessed, were not incident to the regular practice of his profession he speculated in land and mining properties, and the inevitable ups and downs followed. After his second reverse he tossed up a cent by way of determining whether he should follow the law or go to California and prospect for gold. Tho cent came up heads, and he chose law acThe many friends he had cordingly. made and his knowledge of mining got him plenty of business, and it turned out that he was a better manager of other people's affairs than of his own He was making a fair income when it came into his "head that he might do still better in New York. There is plenty of money in New York, but, like the fairy gold of the legends, it has a way of vanishing just when you think you have your hands on it. Tom Bannick was a sound lawyer and a man of excellent judgment, but he was incorrigibly honest. He was conscientious to a degree that caused his colleagues to shrug their shoulders. He objected to taking up doubtful cases "on spec," and to defending causes which seemed to him to involve thievery. He had no influential friends to back him up, and he was not a politician. On the other hand, he sometimes advocated a case that appealed to his sympathies, even when it did not pay him much. Altogether he was not a success. He had lately married a pretty little wife, who had madt him very happy, and whom he would have liked to make very rich. She was a good manager, but there was no magk dwarf to help her spin tho domestic straw gold. One October morning Mr. Bannick arrived at his office about ten o'clock, and ascertained from the pale faced and cynical urchin in charge of tho anteroom that no one had yet called there a piece of news which custom had robbed of its startling features. He then entered the inner room, hung np his coat, lit a cigarette, and sitting down in his revolving chair began to read the newspaper. The French indemnity, it appeared, was paid. Louis Napoleon was not expected to live. Count Lucien do Lisle, the Mexican millionaire was stopping at the Brevoort House. Stocks were dull. Mrs. Harry Trent entertained a few friends at dinner last night. "So she has reentered tho world, has she?" said Tom Bannick to himself. "Well, by George, she's got the money I wish it had been that poor Raven girl! Hullo! What's that?" The outer door had opened, and some one was in the anteroom. "Must he that beggar about the piano rent! Well, if he'd collect my bad debts, I'd pay him. I think I'll offer him the commission. No, 'tisn'the. Can't be a" A client, he would have said, but it didn't seem worth wdiila to hazard the supposition. Nevertheless he slipped the newspaper into the wastepaper basket, threw open his desk and had taken up his pen to write the day of the month at the head of a sheet of blank paper, when the omce boy opened the door. "Gentleman to see you, sir," he said, and handed over a card. It bore the name and titlo "Count Lucien de Lisle." "Why, that's the chap at the Brevoort!" muttered Mr. Brannick. "Show tho gentleman in, Jacob," he added. A tall man entered, removing his silk hat as he did so. Ho was a handsome man, and of striking appearance. His hair, of a light brown hue, inclining to reddish, was cut rather short, and stood upright over his head without any parting, in tho French manner. His beard, also cropped short and pointed nt tho chin, was of the same hue; but his eyebrows and eyelashes, nnd his eyes themselves were somewhat darker, giving a peculiar character to his countenance, scarcely modified by the gold rimmed eyeglasses that sat a.strido his handsome nose. A black double breasted coat was buttoned round his figure, and his erect and slightly formal carriage bespoke military training. Ilia clothes were perfectly c:t, with just asu. pioion of dandyism in the fashion of the collar and the design of tho scarfpin. But dandyism in a foreigner is simply "foreign," and bears tin stigma. It was evident at v glance that Baron Lucien de Li.slo was n gentleman in tho most exacting sense of tho word. "Good morning, r.ir," said Tom, glancing from the card in bis hand to t he visitor before him. "Have a chair. Can I do any tiling for you?" "I desire it," reuirm-- the count. His Voice was quiet and grave and marked by a Gallic decent, perceptible nt first, but to which ono soon btramo accustomed. He spoke English, as Tom soon noted, quite idiomatically, though with a more careful precision than a native woiddu.se. o sat down, mt his bat and gold healed eano on tho bookshelf and began to take oil' bis glovea, which were of the two button vare-tyand el stitched on the backs." "I am in New York to stay some time," hi! continued, "and I wish a house. The hotel, yon comprehend, in but not not not," excellent, He made' a gesture with his right hand, on finger of which was a large and beautiful ring. "Not enough elbow room," Tom suggested. "No, I suppose not. But, by the way, I'm not a real estate agent, I'm a lawyer." "I comprehend. But I am a stranger here; I find tho customs unfamiliar. I thought, if I get some one to act for me, it is more expedient and quicker. 1 pay each month so much, all is done and I make no mistake. Am I clear?" "I understand what you mean," said Tom, endeavoring to dAguisa his excitement by rubbing Lis chin and looking out of the window. "By George!" thought he to himself, "If this fellow's as rich as they say, I may make money out of him. Wonder how five thousand a year would strike him? Courage, my boy! Now or never! You would liko me to take entire charge of your business affairs while yon are here?" he continued aloud. "Well, I snppMo some such arrangement could be mado. But thore'd be a great deal of work connected with it, and prices are high in you know." He looked up at his visitor with a smile. "I shall hope there will ba no disagreement about that," said tho count, with a slight inclination of the head. "I shall submit to your demands; but I had intended offering you ten thousand dollars" "Ten thousand a year!" exclaimed Tom, surprised into a jubilant tone. In a moment his warm Irish imagination had built a hundred castles in the air. "Pardon me; I would not expect you to accept that," said the count, gravely. "I had hoped to induce you to give your time almost wholly to my affairs, and if ten thousand dollars a month, paid monthly in advance, will secure your services the arrangement will gratify me." Tom turned his chair round so as to face his interlocutor squarely, and looked at him several moments in silence. "Do you seriously propose, Count de Lisle," lie said at length, "to offer to pay me a salary at the rate of one hundred ami twenty thousand dollars a year?" The count inclined his head without speaking. "Well," said Tom, "I'm afraid I shall have to decline it." "I should be sorry for that. May I ask why?" "I'll tell you just what's in my mind. Such a sum is u uheard of. In my profession I've made it a rule never to do anything that would make me feel uncomfortable ashamed to look myself in New-Yor- face. You can get any legitimate business done for ten thousand a year; at any rate, I'd do anything that didn't hurt my conscience for that, or half of it. But ten thousand a month means that you are after something that is not legitimate, and I must tell you that you've come to tho wrong place for it?" The count listened to this speech very attentively and it evidently pleased him, "I see I have not been misinformed cbout you," he said. "I am glad you have sofranklyspoken. When you know mo better you will withdraw your reflection on my motives. I intend no crime; nothing that your conscience or your wife would not approve. Mr. Bannick, I wish you to remain entirely independent. You will be at liberty to terminate our agreement 'Without warning, at the moment when I suggest anything that you may disapprove. But you must meanwhile let me be judge of tho value of your service. An honest man is not easy to find, even in New York; and he is therefore valuable. You will have the management of large interests and the otter I make you is not more than a fair commission." "I can't believe it!" ejaculated Tom. "I mean I beg your pardon it seems as if there must be something behind. I may be a fool, no doubt in fact, that's a matter of course. I always have been." "Come, Mr. Bannick, let us not waste time," said the count, unbuttoning his coat and taking out his pocketbook. "This is the twenty-fiftday of October. of November you By tho twenty-fiftwill know mo well enough to know whether you desire our relations to continue or not. Meanwhile I give you your salary for that first month. Next month, if you be not content, we part. Is that rigid?" "I have been a. poor man most of my life," said Tout, clearing his throat and looking steadfastly at the other. "It's no use blinding tho fact that you are making me a wonderful proposition. It's not ordinary business, and I can't account for it. If I had saved your life and you wanted to reward me for it you couldn't do more. Such an amount of money isn't a salary; it's a fortune. I can't earn it; it would be a gift, not a payment. But if you are buying only my services, and not my soul, I'll accept it. I'll make my services as valuable as I can." "If you Lave not saved my life, perhaps yon may somo time have done for Borne one a good act for which you were never recompensed," remarked the count gently. "And I perhaps take this means of discharging an obligation conferred upon mo by some ono whom I was unable to reward at the time. W o must make use of each other in this way. If besides your services I gain your friendship I shall be st ill your debtor." The somewhat formal manner of this Fpeech did not detract from its evident Tho count took ten sincerity. bank notes from his pocket book and laid them on tho desk, observing, "I cashed a cheek at the bank just now if tho notes will not inconvenience you. Si imo time today you can make a receipt, and also draw up a paper to giva you my power of attorney, and, if you like, ono embodying our agreement. And now," he added, as if to prevent Tom from giving expression to the feelings that were swelling in his heart, "let us return to wh it 1 was saying. I h ive seen a house that will suit me. I want you to secure it for me."' "Whereabouts is the house?" inquired Tom. The count described its location. "Why that's tho Harry Trent house?" Tom exclaimed. "It's a good house I don't suppose there's a better iu town; the h h Manager. but no one has ever lived in it. Do you know why?" "Its situation pleased me, and it seemed to have what you call elbow room." "The owner, the man wdio built it, Harry Trent, was murdered there two or three years ago. It was a faniou ease. I was retained in it myself. It gave t in; house a bad name. Do you care fur that sort of thing?" "No," answered the count simply. "I think I have heard of that man," he added, after a pause. "Was he not a merchant of diamonds?" "That was the man. Tall, fresh looking, with white hair. An agreeable fellow, I believe." "Yes, I have met him. Was he not in Paris in eighteen hundred and sixty-nine- ? Yes, the emperor was said to do some business with him. And he was murdered, you say? And you were of the counsel?" "I appeared for the prisoner." "The man who murdered him, who was he?" "Well, my conviction was then, and is now, that the prisoner wan not the man wdio murdered him. Appearances woro against him, but I believe ho was innocent. His name was Keppel Darke, an ; artist." "Did you prove it to the jury?" "No," said Tom with a sigh; "they found him guilty in tho second degree. He was sentenced to imprisonment for life. They might as well have hanged him." "Why do you say that? If he is innocent, it is always still possible that it may be found so; and then, since ho still lives, it can be made good to him." "It will never be much good to him, poor boy! Ho was killed in a railway smash as they were taking him to Sing Lie's out of the question. But I'd Sing. like mighty well to get on tho trail of the real murderer. That would bo worth wdiile still!" "Have you suspicions on the real one?" "I can't say I have. Nobody seems to have benefited by his death. His widow, to be sure, got his fortune; but she must have had the use of it wdiile he was alive. My idea was that Trent hail some intrigue or other that never was kno ivn about, and that that was the cause of his death. Bnt there's no telling." "Had ho no relations no friends to whom a part of his fortune might have been left?" "No blood relations, as far as is known ; but well, this was an odd feature of the case. There was an old lady and her daughter in whom ha was interested, and I believe they were eonie sort of dia- - . tant cousins of his. It was reported that ho thought of marrying the girl; ho was acting as her guardian, and allowed the two an income out of his own pocket. But when ho :died Lis will gave not even a continuance of the allowance." "And the will was not contested?" "No. Miss Raven wa3 sensitive under the circumstances and preferred not." "But if ho left a widow how was it that he expected to marry this young lady'r' "That was a little surprise. The marriage had been secret, and wasn't known till after his death; took place in France somewhere, I believe. Yes, there were several queer things about the case. I should have advised following it uj. Still I think the murder was not connected with the other questionable features. It stood by itself." "The widow is still living?" "Oh, yes; and if I'm not mistaken she means to play a big part in society this winter. She has money enough, and a I wish the Ravens, pool good position. things, had had the half of her luck." "Ah! and have they met with misfortunes, then?" "Well, it's hard enough for a man to make his way, lot alone a couple of women. The old lady could do nothing, except eat and wear clothes; but the young ono had pluck, and she knew how to draw and how to play the piano. I advised her taking pupils, and sbo jumped at tho idea. I got a few for her, and she succeeded so well with them that others came along. But pupils are not to be had in summer, and she would be fortunate to make eight hundred a year. Luckily, I had more room than I needed in my house, so there was no rent for them to pay, and they an; company for my wife when I'm away." "They are living with you, then?" "At my invitation yes. Miss Raven insists on paying board; but" here Tom chuckled "I use it to buy the pictures she puts on sale in tho shopi when no ono elso buys them. I've got quite a collection of 'em; but, bless her heart she doesn't know it?" "You have told mo an interesting story," remarked tho count, "and because I appreciate it I will buy some of the young lady's pictures myself. You shall give me tho name of the shop where they are to bo sold. She shad also paint a picture to order for my house." "That's right good of you," said Tom heartily. "Clio's a nice girl, but deserves a bit turn of the wheel. But I beg your pardon for getting oil' the track of the .house; you happened to touch me on a spot right over my heart. What rent would you like to pay?" "I want to buy the bouse." "To buy it! That'll cost you something. You might get it at a reasonable! rent, as the house is under a cloud ju.-- t now, tin I was telling you; but when it comes to buying, it's another tiling. Property up there is rising, and I doubt you would buy the house for les.i than it cost to build it and that's not far cA half a million." "Who owns tho house?" asked tho count. "It'll bo his widow, I think S.illv Matehin that was." "I wish to say no more than is sary; but I must have t he hrae for ,ny own in any case. It is probable I may desire to make alterations in it. And if property becomes inoro valuable then I could sell it; afterward "Yes; that's true. You'll pay half a million, then, if it's not going for less?" (KiNTlM'Kil.) them-nothing- , |