Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 19, Number 13, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 15 September 1888 — Page 2

SgSSSSf!

After tho doctor hod gone, Calton turned sharply to Sal Rawlins, who stood waiting to be addressed, "Well," lie said briskly, "can you tell ua what startled Miss Frettlbyf* "I can, sir," slie answered, quietly. "I was In the drawing room when Mr. Frottlby died —but—we had better go up to the study." "Whyr asked Calton, in surprise, as he and Fitagerald followed her up stairs. "Because, sir," she said, when they had entered tho study and sho had locked tho door, "I don't want any ono but yours .Ives to know what I tell you." "More mystery," muttered Calton, as he glanced at Brfiui, and took his seat at the escritoire, "Mr. Frottlby went to bed early last night," said Sal, calmly, "and Miss Madge and I were talking together in the drawing room, when he entered, walking in his sleep, carrying some jwpers"

Both Calton and Fitzgerald started, and tho latter grew pole. "Ho came down tho room and spread out a paper on tho table where the lamp was. Miss Madge bent forward to see what it was. I tried to stop her, but it was too late. She gave a scream aud fell on the floor. In doing so sho happened to touch her father. He awoke, and fell down dead." "And tho papersr asked Calton, uneasily.

Sal did not answer, but producing them from her pocket, laid them in his hands. Brian bent forward as Calton opened the envelope in silence, but both gave vent to an exclamation of horror at seeing tho certificate of marriage which they knew Rosanna Moore had given to Whyta. Their worst suspicions wm confirmed, and Brian turned away his head, afraid to meet the barrister's eye. The latter folded up the papers thoughtfully and put them in his pocket "You know wliat these oref* ho asked Sal, eyeing her keenly. "I could hardly help knowing," she answered. "It proves that Rosanna Moore was Mr. Frettlby's wife, and" Sho hesitated. "Go KI,"said Brian, in a harsh tone, look tag up. "And they were the papers sho gave Mr. Whyt*0» "WeUr

Sal was silent for a moment, and then looked up with a flush. "You needn't think Fro going to split," the said, indignantly, recurring to bar Bourke street «lang in the excitement of the moment "I know what you know, but s'elp me 3 ril be as silent us tho gravts," "Thank you," said Brian, fervently, taking ter haiui "I know you love her too well to betray this tvrriblo secret" "I would bo a nice un\ I would," said Sal, with scorn, "after her lifting tueoot of the gutter, to round on her—« poor girl like mc, without a friend or a native, now Gran* dend."

Catexn locked up quickly. It was plain Sal was quilc ignorant that RMSUIIM Moore was hw motixr. So much the W*er H»y woakl keep tor to ignorance, perhaps not altogether, but it would tx» foUy to undeooiv* her at present. "rmgosn' t»Mu« Madg* now,*' she mid, going to tlie door, "and I wont fQQ again tSafr siting lightheaded, and might lei it h::

bat HI n«t bt any

A REMARKABLE STORY.

CHAPTER XXXL ETUHH MOSTEY.

As soon os Br:^i received the telegram •which announced the death of Mark Frettlby lie pot on bis hat, stepped into Cotton's trap, and drove along to this St. Hilda station, in flinders street, with that gentleman. There Calton dismissed his trap, sending a note to his eWk with tho groom, and went down to St. KiMa with Fitzgerald. On arrival they found the whole bouse perfectly quiet and orderly, owing to the excellent management of Sal Rawlins. She had taken the command in everything, and although the servants, knowing her antecedents, were disposed to resent her doing so, yet such were her ad ministrative powers and strong will that they obeyed her implicitly. Mark Frettlby's body had been taken up to his bedroom, Madge had been put to. bed, and Dr. Chins ton and Brian sent for. When they arrived they could not help expressing their admiration at the capital way in which Sal Rawlins had managed things. "She's a clever girl, that," whispered Calton to Fitzgerald. "Curious thing she should havo taken up hor proper position in her father's house. Fate is a deal cleverer than we mortals think her."

Brian was about to roplv when Dr. Chinston entered the room. His face was very grave, and Fitzgerald looked at him in alarm. "Madge—Mis Frettlby," he faltered "Is very ill," replied the doctor has an attack of brain fever. I can't answer for the consequences yofc."

Brian sat down on the sofa and stared at the doctor in a dazed sort of way. Madge dangerously ill—perhaps dying. What if she did die, and be lost tho true hearted woman who stood 30 nobly by him in his trouble* "Cheer up," said Chirwton, patting him on tho shoulder "while there's life there's hope, ar-1 whatever human aid can do to sovo her will to done."

Brian grasped the doctor's hand in silonce, his heart being too full to speak. "How did PVettlby dief' asked Calton. "Heart disease," eaid Chinston. "His heart was very much afTccted, as I discovered a week or so ago. It appoars ho was walking in his sleep, and entering tho drawing room he alarmed Hiss Frettlby, who screamed and must have touched him. Ho awoke suddenly, and tho natural consequences followed—he dropped down dead." "What alarmed, Miss Frettlbyf' asked Brian in a low voico, covering his faco with his hand. "The sight of hor father walking in his sleep, I suppose," said Chinston, buttoning his glovo, "and the shock of his death, which took place indirectly through her, accounts for tho brain fever." "Madge Frottlby is not the woman to scream and waken a somnambulist," said Calton, decidedly, "knowing as she did tho danger. Thero must be some other reason." "This youug woman will toil you all about it," said Chinston, nodding toward Sal, who entered tho room at this moment. "She was present, aiul since then has managed things admirably and now I must go," he said, shaking bauds with Calton and FiUgorald. "Keop up your heart, ray boy I'll pull her through yet"

Mystery of a Hansom Cab,

J?F

FERGUS W. HUME.

ing

in hut my*

self,"* and saving »h t«ft the ream. "Cass thy bn-auS apca tho waters," said Gallon oriscttiarly. "Tiws kindnam of Miss Wrsfrtlfcy to UjjsS f*x*r waif Is ataaly tMsariaff fruit—gra*^-das i# Um rarest of qoalitka, rarer even inaa modesty." nuigwrUd radenoaiwwar, bat it»«l wt of tlw wiis&sw, and taoogtit of his darting lyt,^ untt death, and be could do noth

*v2^

lo savo her. '•Well," said Calton, sharply. "Oh, I beg your pardon," mid

Fitzgerald,

turning i:i confusion. "I suppose the will must bo read, ^pd all that sort of tiling." "Yes," answered tho barrister "1 am

one

tho executors" "And tho othersf "Yourself and Chinston," answered Calton: "so I suppose," turning to the desk, "we can look at his papers, and see that all is straight" "Yes, I suppose so," replied Brian, mechanically, his thoughts far away, and then he turned again to the window. Suddenly Calton gave vent to an exclamation of surprise, and, turning hastily, Brian saw him holding a thick roll of papers in bis hand, which ho had taken out of tho drawer. "Look here, Fitzgerald," he said, greatly excited, "hero is Frettlby's confession—look I" and be keld it up.

Brian sprang foward in astonishment. So at last the hansom cab mystery was to bo cleared up. These sheets, no doubt, contained the whole nai ration of the crime and how it was committed. "We will read it, of course," he said, hesitating, half hoping that Calton would propose to destroy it at once. "Yes," answered Calton, "the three execu tors must read it, and then—we will burn it" "That will be tha better way," answered Brian, gloomily. "Frettlby is dead, and the law can do nothing in tho matter, so it would be best to avoid the scandal of publicity. But why tell Chinstonf" "Wo must," said Calton, decidedly. "Ho will be sure to gather the truth from Madge's ravings, and may as well know alL He is quite safe, and will bo silent as the grave. Bat I am more sorry to tell Kilsip." "The detective! Good God, Calton, rarely you will not do sol" "I must," replied the barrister, quietly. "Kilsip is firmly persuaded that More land committed tho crime, and I have the same dread of his pertinacity as you had cf mine He may find out all." "What must be, mftst be," said Fitzgerald, clenching his hands. "But I hope no one else will And out this miserable story. There's Moreland, for instance." "Ah, true I" said Calton, thoughtfully. "He called and saw Frettlby the other night, you say!" "les. I wonder what forf "There is only ono answer," said tho bar rister, slowly. "Ho must havo seen Frettlby following Whyte when he left the hotel, and wanted hush monoy." "I wonder if he got it," observed Fitzgerald. "Oh, I'll soon find that out," answered Calton, opening tho drawer again, and taking out tho dead man's check book. "Lot me see what checks havo been drawn lately."

Most of tho blocks were filled up with rftnall amounts, and ono or two for hundred or so. Calton could find no large sum such as Moreland would havo demanded, when, at the very end of the book, he found a check torn off. leaving tho block slip quito blank. "There you are," he said, triumphantly, holding out tho book to Fitzgerald. "He wasnt such a fool as to writo in tho amount on {tho block, but tore the check out, and wrote in the sum required." "And what's to bo dono about itf' "Let him keep it, of course," answered Calton, shrugging his shoulders. "It's the only way to secure his silence." "I expect ho cashed It yesterday, and is off by this time," said Brian, after a moment's pause. "So much the better for us," said Calton grimly. "But I don't think ho's off, or Kilsip would havo lot me know. Wo must tell htm, or he'll get everything out of Moreland, and the consoquenccs would bo that all Melbourne will know the story whereas, by showing him tho confession, we got him to leavo Moreland alono, and thus secure silence in both cases." "I suppose wo must see Chinston!" "Yos, of course. I will telegraph to him and Kilsip to come up to my office this afternoon at 3 o'clock, and then we will settle the whole matter." "And Sal Rawlinsf* "Oh! I quite forgot about her," said Calton, in a perplexed voice. "She knows nothing about her parents, and, of course, Mark Frettlby died in tho belief that she was dead." "Me must tell Madge," said Brian, gloomily. "Thero is no help for it Sal is bjf rights the heiress to the money of her dead father."

That depends upon tho will," replied Calton, dryly. "If it specific* that the money is left to 'my daughter, Margaret Frettlby,' Sal Rawlins can have no claim and if such is the case, it will bo no good telling her who she is." "And what's to be donef* "Sal Rawlins," went on the barrister, without noticing the interruption, "has evidently never given a thought to her father or mother, as the old hag, no doubt, swore they were dead. So I think it will be best to keep silent—that is, if no money is left to her, and, as her father thought her dead, I dont think there will any. In that ease, it would be best to settle an income cm bear. You can easily find a pretext, and let the matter rest."

But supposes in accordance with tho wording of the will, she Is entitled to all tho moneyf •In that cams" said Calton, gravely, 'there Is only one course open—«he most bt» told everything, and tho dividing of the money left to her generosity. Br:* Tdont thin' TOO need be alarmed I^tn pr :tor© MaiL Is the heiress.* "Itfc not the I thii 'c abcr* Jd Brian, hastily. T_1 tak» penny." "My boy," said tho br pl 'aghfs band kindly on Brian* sb——L-r. "wL_i you marry Madge Frettlby, you will get what is better than money—-* heart of geld."

CHAPTER inn

xm xosms xtt, KISI »osrx. Dr. Chimton had received Qaltotft telegrain. .-utd was considerably astce 1«d tbervat He was still «o when, «u jtrivisgattliei^keatthetimd appointed, he found Calton and FUsprald were not i. beta third man whom be had never withUxsm. This lattsr Calton intn him at

Mr. KBttfpv of the detect! v« et

fast which twgsa to ar*f| the wwttr ttSM^ashetiimid »e iNins tins of tSfeprweoeB of a defect!** Bms«r, he IBP no *T8t tohlt —It kr-*-* to hi- aad -d Cfcltoa teetasd the door of office, and then wi *'v\

lla

Kilsip was seldom astonished, but ho was this time, while Dr. Chinston fell back in his chair and looked at the barrister with a dazed sort of expression. 'And what's more," went on Calton, triumphantly, "do you know that Moreland went to Frettlby two nights ago and obtained a certain sum for hush money*" "What!" cried Kilsip.

HBBRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MATL.

of the executors under the will" of the late Mr. Frettlby, and that & why I asked you to come here today. Tho other executors oro Mr. Fitzgerald aad myself." "Oh, indeed," murmured the doctor, politely. "And now," said Calton, looking at him, "do you remember the hansom cab murder, which caused such a sensation some months ago?" '•Yes, I do," replied the doctor, rather astonished. "But what has that to do with the willf "Nothing to do with the win," answered Calton, gravely, "but tbo fact is Mr.Frcttlby was implicated in tbo affair."

Dr. Chinston glanced inquiringly at Brian, but that gentleman shook his head. "ItV nothing to do with my arrest," ho said, sadly. "What do you meanf ho gasped, pushing back his chair. "How was bo implicated!" "That I cannot tell yon," answered Calton, "until I read his confession." "Ah!" said Kilsip, becoming very attentive. "Yes," said Calton turning to Kilsip, "your hunt after Moreland is a wild goose chase, for tho murderer of Oliver Whyte is discovered." "Discovered!" cried Kilsip and tho doctor in ono breath. "Yes, and his name Is Mark Frettlby."

Kilsip shot a glance of disdain out of his bright black eyes and gave a low laugh of disbelief, but the doctor pushed back his chair furiously and arose to his feet "This is laocstryis," ho cried, in a rage. "I won't sit still and hear this accusation against my dead friend." "Unfortunately, it is too true," said Brian, sadly. "How dare you say SDP said Chinston, turning angrily on him. "And you going to marry his daughter!" "Thero is only one way to nettle tho question," said Calton, coldly. "We must read his confession." "But why the detective?" asked the doctor, ungraciously, as he took his seat reluctantly. "Because 1 want him to hear for himself that Mr. Frettlby committed the crime, and that be may keep it quiet." "Not till I've arrested him," said Kilsip, determinedly. "But hefs dead," said Brian. 'TQI speaking of Roger Moreland," retorted Kilsip. "For ho and no other murdered Oliver Whyte." :i "That's a much more likely story," Chiiiston said. "I tell you

no," said Calton vehemently.

"God knows I would like to preserve Mark Frettlby's good namo, and it is with this object I have brought you all together. I will read the confession, and when you know the truth I want you all to keep silent abrut it, as Mark Frottlby is dead and the publication of his crime can do no good to any one." "I know," resumed Calton, addressing the detective, "that you are fqlly convinced in your own mind that you are right and I am wrong, but what if I tell you that Mark Frettlby died holding those very papers for the sake of whiob tbe crime was committed?"

Kilsip's faco lengthened considerably. "What were the papers#" "Tho marriage certificate of Marl: Frettlby and Rosanna Moore, the woman who died in tho back slum."

"Yes Moreland, in coming out of tho hotel, evidently saw Frettlby, and threatened to expose him unless he paid for his silenced" "Very strange," murmured Kilsip to himself, with a disappointed look on his face.

But why did Moreland keep still so long?" "I cannot tell you," replied Calton, "but no doubt tho confession will explain alL"

Then for heaven's sako read it," broke in Dr. Chinston, impatiently. "I'm quite in the dark, and all your talk is Greek to me.*' "Ono moment," said Kilsip, dragging a bundle from under his chair, and untying it

If you are right, what about this?" and be held up a light coat, very much soiled and weather worn. "Whose is that!" asked Calton, startled. "Not Whyte's?"

Yes, Whyte's," repeated Kilsip, with great satisfaction. "I found it in the Fitzroy gardens, near the gate that opens to George street, East Melbourne. It was up in a fir tree."

Then Mr. Frettlby must have got out at Powlett street, and walked down George street, and then through the Fitzroy gardens into town," said Calton.

Kilsip took no heed of the remark, but took a small bottle out of the pocket of tho coat and held it up. "I also foundUiis," hosoid.

Chloroform, 'wrried every one, guessing at nnoe that it was Hie missing bottle. Exactly," said Kilsip, replacing it -This was the bottle which contained the poison used by—by—well, call him the murderer. The name of the chemist being on tbe label, 1 went to him and found out who bought it Now, who do you think!" with a look of triumph.

Frettlby," said Calton, decidedly. •1" No, Moreland bunt cut Chinston, greatly excited.

Neither," retorted tho detective, calmly. "The man who purchased this was Oliver Whyte himself."

Himself echoed Brian, now thoroughly surprised, as, indeed, were all the others. "Yes. I had no trouble in finding out that, thanks to the 'Poison act.' As I knew no ono would be to fooluh as to carry chloroform about hi his pocket for any length of time, I mentioned the day of the murder as the probable dote it was bought The chemist turned up his book and found that Whyte was the purchaser."

And what did he buy It forf asked Chin-

"That's more than I can tell yem," said Kila Fj.rog of hf* -hooldors. "Itfs jwn Oie kosbe i1 urht for medicinal uses, which may moan any'np* "Ti iiresawita ." «fcwervedCal-toa,c-^i -Ij "Who UK witness!"

Again tip smiled triumphantly., "I ik can gncn," said Fl&cesald. "Moru-udf

Kilsip nodded. .-v "And I .arked Co) ,In a dl^ijr ittr.'i.-t..* tow. is at Mer«f JO JMC rMtrv-l-Hek Ttli.it Wby-rolMdc!. on kin?, flMNbnb fol V'*~i Uwi iu«ui iiutleral him

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what mmV»

three

the fin* said Galtoa to Hw doet#v"XIwvotoWtorm jo«tlMjm,an «w

Frv!

invel

Mng

tired of tho discussion. 7Read the confession, and we will soon know the truth, without all this talk."

Calton assented, and all -havitig settled themselves to listen, he began to read what the dead man had written.

CHAPTER XXXIIL THE COXTZSSIOK.

"\yhat I am now about to write Is set forth by me so that tho true circumstances con nected with the 'Hansom Cab Tragedy,' which took placo in Melbourne in IS—, may be known. 1 owo a confession, particularly to Brian Fitzgerald, seeing that he was accused of the crima Although I know he was rightfully acquitted of the charge, yet I wish him to know all about the case, though I am convinced, from his altered demeanor towards me, that be is better acquainted with it than be chooses to confess. In order to account for the murder of Oliver Whyte, must go back to the beginning of my life in colony, and show how the scries of events began which culminated in the oommital of thecrimei. 'Should it be necessary to make this con fession public, in tho interests of justice, I can say nothing against such a course being taken but I would bo grateful if it could be suppressed, both on account of my good name and of my dear daughter Margaret, whose lovo and affection has so soothed and brightened my lifa. 'If, however, sho should be informed of tbe contents of theso pages, 1 ask her to deal leniently with tho memory of one who was sorely tried and tempted. "I came to the colony of Victoria, or rather, as it was called then. Now South Wales, in tho year 18—. 1 had been in a merchant's ofllco in London, but not seeing much opportunity for advancement, I looked about to see if 1 could better myself. I heard of this new land across the ocean, aud though it was not then the El Dorado which it afterwards turned out, and, truth to tell, had rath' a shady name, owing to the transpor tation of convicts, yet I longed to go there and start a new life. Onhappily, however, I had not the means to go, and saw nothing better before me than the dreary life of a London clerk, as it was impossible that I could savo out of the small salary 1 got Just at this time, however, an old maiden aunt of jjiine died smd left a few hundred pounds to me, so, with this, I came out to Australia, determined to become a rich man. 1 stayed t$oms time in Sydney, and then came over to Port Phillip, now so widely known as Marvelous Melbourne, where 1 intended to pitch my tent 1 saw that it was a yoi'.ng and rising colony, though of course, coming as I did, before tho days of the gold diggings, 1 never dreamt it would spring up, as it had done since, to a nation. I was careful and saving in those days, and indeti, 1 think it was the happiest time of my lifa "I bought land whenever 1 could scrape the monej together, and, at the time of the gold rush, was considered well to do. When, however, tho cry that gold had been discovered was raised, and tbe eyes of all the nations were turned to Australia, with her glittering treasures, men poured in from all parts of the world, and tho 'Golden Age' commenced. I began to get rich rapidly, and was soon pointed out as the wealthiest man in the colonies. I bought a station, and leaving the riotous, feverish Melbourne life, wont to live on it I enjoyed myself there, for the wild, open air life had groat charms for me, and there was a sense of freedom to which I had hitherto been a stranger. But man is a gregarious animal, and I, growing weary of solitude and communings with Mother Nature, came down on a visit to Melbourne, where, with companions as gay as myself, 1 spent my money freely, and, as tho phrase goes, saw life. After confessing that I loved the pm-o life of the country, it sounds strange to say that I enjoyed tho wild life of the town, but I did. I was neither a Joseph nor a St Anthony, and I was delighted with Bohemia, with its good fellowship and charming suppers, which took place in the small hours of the morning, when wit anrl humor reigned suprema It was at one of these suppers that I first met Rosanna Moore, tho woman who was destined to curse my existence. She was a burlesque actress, and all tho young follows in those days were madly in love with her. She was not exactly what was called beautiful, but there was a brilliancy and fascination about her which few could resist On flret seeing her I did not admire her much, but laughed at companions as they raved about her. On I ecomlng personally acquainted with her, however, I found that hor powers of fascination had not been overrated, and ended by falling desperately In love with her. I mado inquiries about her private lifo, and foun1 that it was irreproachable, as she was guarded by a veritable dragon of a mother, who would 'let uo one approach her daugbtor. 1 need not tell about my courtship, as these phases of a man's life are generally tbo same, but it will be sufficient to prove the depth of my passion for her when I at length determined to make her my wife. It was on condition, however, that the marriage should be kept secret until such time as I should cboosn to reveal it My reason for such a course was this: my father was still alive, and he, being a rigid Presbyterian, would never have forgiven me for having married a woman of the stage so, as

be was old and

feeble, I did not wish him to learn that I had .done so, fearing that the shock would oo too much for him in his then present state of health. I told Rosanna I would marry her, but wanted her to leave her mother, who was a perfect fury, and not an agreeable person to live with. As 1 was rich, young and not bad looking, Rosanna consented, and, during an engagement she had in 8ydney, I went over there and married her. She never told her mother she had married me why, I do not know, as I never laid any restriction on her doing so. The mother made a great noise over the matter, but I gave Rosanna a large mm of mone for her, and this the old harridan accepted and left for New Zealand. Rosanna went with me to my station, where we lived man and wife, though. In Melbourne, she was scmsed to be my mistress. At last, f« jdt r.ided In my own ey.-s as to the way I wr..? living to the world, I wanted tn rtrr-rt our bat this Rosanna would n*-: :.~snt t". w»- r» torched at this and cotdd never discover tbe reason, in man/ --r.y*|r .umawr.aaenisnna ti -.e. Sh •_- JET weary I the qoi't wnntry life, Ri. torrfnrn to tbe This I P.. mci:: Kt

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saying that she had never really cared for me, but had married me for 1x7 moneyshe would keep our marriage secret, and was going to return to tbe stage. 1 followed my false friend and fa wife down to Melbourne, but arrived too late, as they had just left for England. Disgusted with tho manner in which I had been treated, I plunged into a whirl of dissipation, trying to drown the memory of my married life. My friends, of course, thought that my loss amounted to no more than that of a mistress, and I soon began to doubt that 1 had ever been married, so far away and visionary did my life of the year previous seem. I continued my fast life for about six months, when suddenly I was arrested upon the brink of destruction by—an angel. I say this advisedly, for if ever there was an angel upon earth, it was she who afterwards became my wifa Sho was the daughter of a doctor, and it was her infiuenoe which drew uie back from the dreary path of profligacy and dissipation, which I was then leading. 1 paid her great attention, and we were, in fact, looked upon as good as engaged, but I knew that 1 was still linked to that accursed woman, and could not ask her to be my wife. At this second crisis of my life Fate again intervened, for 1 received a letter from England, which informed me that Rosanna Moore had Iteen run over in the streets of London, and had died in an hospital. The writer was a young doctor, who had attended her, and 1 wrote home to him, begging him to send out a certificate of her death, so that 1 might be sure sho was no more. He did so, and also enclosed an account of the accident, which had appeared in a newspaper. Then, indeed, felt, that I was free, and closing, as I thought forever, tho darkest page of my life's history, 1 began to look forward to tho future 1 married again, and my domestic life was a singularly happy one. As the colony grew greater, with every year 1 became even more wealthy than 1 had boon, and was looked up to and respected by my fellow citizens. Whou my dear daughter Margaret was born, I felt that my cup of happiness was full, but suddenly I received a disagi*eeablo reminder of the past Rossana's mother made her appearance one day—a disreputable* looking creature, smelling of gin, and in whom I could not recognize the respectably dressed woman who used to accompany Rossaua to tho theatre. She had spent long ago all tbo money I had gi fen her, and sank lower and lower, until sho now lived in a slum off Little Bourke streot. I mado inquiries after the child, and sho told mo it was dead. Rosanna had not taken it to England with hor, but had left it in her mother's charge, and, no doubt, neglect aud want of proper nourishment was tho cause of its death. There now soeiucd to be no link to bind me to tho past with tho exception of tho old hag, who knew nothing about the marriage. I did not attempt to undetreivo her, but agreed to allow her onough to livo on if sho promised nover to trouble mo again, and to keep quiet about everything which had reference to my connection with hor daughter. Sho promised readily enough, raid went back to her squalid dwelling in the slums, where, for all I know, alio still lives, as monoy has been paid to her regularly every month by my solicitors. I heard nothing more about tbo matter, and cow felt quite satisfied that I had heard the last of Rosanna. As years rolled 011 things prospered with me, and BO fortunate was I in all speculations that my luck became proverbial Then, alas! when all things seemed to smile upon me my wifo died, and tho world has never seemed thosamo to mo since. I, however, had my dear daughter to consolo mo, and in her lovo and affection I becanio reconciled to tho loss of my wifo. A young Irish gentleman, callcd Brian Fitzgerald, camo out to Australia, and I soon saw that my daughter was in love with him, and that ho reciprocated that affection, whereat I was glad, as I havo always esteemed him highly. I looked forward to their marriago, when suddenly a sories of events occurred, which must be fresh to tho memory of thoso who road these pages. Mr. Oliver Whyte, a gontloman from London, callod on mo and startled mo with tho news that my first wifo, Rosanna Moore, was still living, and that the story of her death had been an ingenious fabrication in order to doceivo mo. Sho had met with an accident, as stated in tho newspaper, aud had beon takon to an hospital, where sho recovered. The young doctor, who had sent tho certificate of her death, had fallen in love with her and wanted to marry her, and had told mo that she was dead in order that her past lifo might bo obliterated. Tho doctor, however, died before tbe marriage, and Rosanna did not troublo horself about undeceiving me. She was then acting on the burlesque stage under the namo of

Musette,' and seemed to have gained an unenviable notoriety by her extravagance and infamy. Whyte mother in London, and she became his mistress. He seemed to havo wonderful influence over hor, for she told him all her past life and about hor marriage with me. Her popularity being on the wane in London, as she was now growing old, and had to make way for younger actresses, Whyte proposed thffc they should come out to the colonies and extort money from me, and ho had come to me for that purpose. The villain told me all this in tbe coolest manner, and I, knowing ho held the secret of my life, was unablo to resent it I refused to see Rosanna, but told Whyte I would agree to his terms, which were, first, a large sum of money was to be paid to Rosanna, and secondly, Whyte wanted to marry my daughter. I, at first, absolutely declined to sanction the latter proposal, but as be threatened to publish the story, and that meant tbe proclamation to the world of my daughter's illegitimacy, I at last agreed, and he began to pay his addresses to Madge. She, however, refused to marry him and told me she was engaged to Fitzgerald, so after a severe struggle with myself I told Whyte that I would not allow him to marry Madge, but would give him whatever sum he would like to On tbe night be was murdered be came to see me, and showed me tbe certificate of marriage between myself and Rosanna Moore. He refused to take a sum of money, and said unless oonsen to hi* marriago "^ith he would pulV-h the whole afl I rr^.i'tod him to a me time to think, to

he said be would

give !:.•» •... but no mor.\ and tb 10m., ng tho marria^ oer- ncate with him, I was in despair, \V I

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murdered in tho hansom caE. Twas in groat fear loot the marriage certificate would bo found on him, but as nothing was said about it I began to wonder. I knew he had it on him, so came to the conclusion that the murderer, whoever he was, bad taken it from the body, and would sooner or later come to me to extort money, knowing that I dare not denounce him. Fitzgerald was arrested, and afterwards acquitted, so I began to think that the certificate had been lost, and my troubles were at an end. Howovcr, I was always haunted by a dread that tho sword wes hanging over my head, and would fall sooner or later. I was right, for two nights ago Roger Moreland, who was an intimato friend of Whyte's, called on mo and produced tbo marriage certificate, which he offered to soil to me for 11 vo thousand pounds. In horror, I accused him of murdering Whyte, which he denied at first, but afterwards acknowledged, stating that I dare not betray him for iny own sake. I was nearly mad with tho horror I was plaood in, either to denounce my daughter as illegitimate or lot a murderer cscapo tbo penalty of his crime. At last I agreed to keep silent, and banded hici a check for £5,000 pounds, receiving in return tho marriage certiflcato. I thou mado Moreland swear to leavo tho colony, which ho readily agreed to do, saying Melbourne was dangerous. When he left I reflected upon the awfulness of my position, and bad almost determined to commit suicide, but, thank God, 1 saved myself from that crime. I wrote out this confession in order that after my death tho truo story of the murder of Wbyto may bo known, and that any ono who may hereafter be accused of the murder may not be wrongfully punished. I,have no hopes of Moreland ever receiving tho penalty of his crime, as when this is open all traco of him will, no doubt, bo lost I will not destroy tho marriage certificate, but place it with these papers, so that tho truth of my story can be seen. In conclusion, 1 would ask forgiveness of my daughter Margaret for my sins, which have lieeu visited 011 her, but she can see for herself that circumstances were too strong for ma May sho forgive me, as I hope God in his infinite mercy will, and may sho corno sometimes and pray over my grave, DOT think too hardly uwn her dead father," (To be Continued.)

Kiss me d»rHng, for your breath Is Just as sweet us new mow lia.v Kiss me, darling, for your teeth are

Kiw from tartar or decay Kls* me,darling, for you won't Forget me or your 80Z01X)NT.,

The Atmosphere of Love

Is a pure, and sweet breat h. This desideratum is 0110 of tho results of using SOZODONT, which not only invigorates the tooth, but renders the mouth as fragrant as a roso.

SPAWHNO'H OLVR will mend anything oxeept a broken heart. ii5-4t

Peculiar In combination, proportion, and preparation of ingredients, Hood's Sarsaparllla possesses tho curatlvo value of tho best known rcme- |J

AA/|'C

dles

t'10

vegetable nOOCI S kingdom. Peculiar in its strength and economy, Hood's Sarsaparllla Is the only medicine of which can truly be said, Ono Hundred Doses Ono Dollar." Peculiar In its medicinal merits, Hood's Sarsaparllla accomplishes cures hitherto un-

wonior Sarsaparillauj

the title of "Tho greatest blood purifier ever discovered." Peculiar in its "good namo at home,"—tlioro Is more of Hood's Sarsa^ parilla sold in Lowell than of all other blood purifiers. Peculiar In Its pliouomcnal record of i*n sales abroad no other r6CUIIill preparation ever attained so rapidly nor held so steadfastly tho confidence of all classes of people. Peculiar in tho brain-work which it represents, Hood's Sarsaparllla combines all the knowledge which modern research**

,n®d'ca*

Hood's Sarsaparllla

Sold by all drnggiaU. 01 six forf 5. Prepared only by C. 1. HOOI) & CO., Apotlioeurloa, Lowell,

MAM.

100 Doses One Dollar

LADIES

Who Value a Refined Compltxlon MUST USE

POZZONI'S

MEDICATED

COMPLEXION POWDER.

It Imparts tn-tttlnst transparency to tk« •kin. JRemove* all plmplr*. frecklM dlMslorallaiia, and makea the «hl« delicately oaft aad bruullful. It wiiUIm IImc, wblt* lead or nrtrilc. In three shade*) plak or fle*h, white land bronette.

FOR OAI.lt BY

111 Bragrixtx ud Paiey Gotfe Beaten Everywke.e. BEWARE OF IMITATIONS#

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OrLINDSEYS

BLOOD 'SEARCHER.

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