ly with rage as he thought of what
the President had said to him of his wife, but chuckled when he thought
of the revenge which he had taken.

"He will wake up with a cursed headache," Carey said to himself, "and if
he wishes to arrest me, he can do it. Even the President cannot slander
a man's wife."

He was quite sober now, and had forgotten all about his "system." He
thought of his wife, and wondered if she was pleased at the little
present which he had sent to her in Paris; he thought of the days of his
early love for her, when she had seemed to him a goddess; and this
scoundrel had called her, his Eleanor, a spy, and asserted that he had
come to claim the reward of her treachery. At the club he noticed that
all the men whispered to each other and smiled. When he entered the
smoking-room a group were eagerly reading the latest news, which rolled
in over the "ticker" in the corner. He supposed that the other fellows
were making merry over his losses, and, with a hard laugh, he settled
into an easy-chair and lighted a cigar. It pleased him to think of the
President's bald head smeared with blood and ink. He felt himself more
of a man than he had for years. Just then a waiter brought him a letter
upon a tray. It was his letter to his wife in Paris, into which he had
slipped the bank-notes. Her bankers had returned it to him, and it was
marked "Not found." He thrust it into his pocket, and wondered where
Eleanor might be, and why he had not heard from her all this time. He
remembered now that she had been gone a long time; he had been so
absorbed in his play that he had not thought much about it before.
Looking up, he saw that the other men were all clustered around the
"ticker," and that one of them was reading a despatch, and the others
listened attentively, every now and then glancing over to him. He could
not imagine at first what they were after; then it occurred to him that
they were sending the news of his assault upon the President.

"What is it all about, you fellows?" he asked, walking over to them; "it
must be damned amusing!" The men scattered as he approached, and left
the "ticker" for his use, looking uneasily at him as he lifted the white
tape in his hand and read the despatch which had so much interested
them.

It was from Boston, U. S. A., telling of the arrival of the steamer with
King George the Fifth and Mrs. Oswald Carey on board. The despatch
darkly hinted that she had been the cause of the Kin