ly finds
this hard truth out too late. He will never get away from me, alive
or dead; back he goes to New York." And yet McNerney forgot his
keenest daily precautions, deceived by the apparent helplessness
of the wounded murderer.

The strangely-assorted party were hurried through Breslau by the
authorities, and Sergeant Breyman proudly wore Doctor Atwater's
gold repeater as a parting present, when the train rushed away,
bearing the secretly raging criminal back to a shameful death.

"I shall not sleep till I get that fellow safely in an iron tank
stateroom on the Hamburg steamer," said the stern-eyed McNerney,
preparing to lock Braun's wrist to his own. "After we sail, we can
have him watched, night and day; then, you and I can rest!"

The secret of the vast money recovery had been faithfully kept, and
even when the "Fuerst Bismarck" turned the Lizard and sped out on
the Atlantic, few of the passengers suspected that a daring criminal
was imprisoned below.

While Doctor Atwater keenly watched the bewitching Irma Gluyas
and the now happy Leah, the returning tourists supposed them to
be only a lady of rank and her waiting women.

McNerney, sure of his princely reward, now never left his prisoner,
and the recovered funds were duly locked in the liner's great steel
steamer safe.

So it was left to William Atwater to draw out, bit by bit, the
whole story of Irma Gluyas' wasted life.

A pale-faced, stately beauty, steadfast and silent, was the wretched
woman who had innocently lured Clayton to the murder chamber.

It was easy for Atwater, in his professional experience, to
discover from the final unbosoming of both the women, that Braun
had artfully drugged and stupefied his beautiful decoy, so that she
was incapable of warning Clayton, or interrupting the leisurely
disposition of the murdered man's body.

"He must have changed his first plans," mused Atwater, "only guided
by his desire to have the money so imprudently trusted to one man."

There was life in Leah Einstein's heart once more, for she now knew
that her graceless son was probably safe from prison.

Sly, secretive, and slavishly devoted to the young reprobate, the
sin-soiled woman had successfully hidden all which could in any
way implicate the dishonest office boy.

When the great ship neared Sandy Hook, William Atwater frankly
answered Irma Gluyas' wailing cry, "Why do I not throw myself over
there, in search of peace?"

For the gnawi