d the
wind without shrieked like a thousand demons of the night. He could
sleep no more. He arose and hastily dressed. The room was bitterly
cold; he was shivering. He thought of the crackling logs in the
fire-place below. He groped his way along the darkened staircase. As
he opened the door leading into the sitting-room the fitful gleam of
the dying embers cast a ghastly light over the face of a corpse.

Diotti stood a moment, his eyes transfixed with horror. The violin and
bow still in the hands of the dead man told him plainer than words
what had happened. He went toward the chair, took the instrument from
old Sanders' hands and laid it on the table. Then he knelt beside the
body, and placing his ear close over the heart, listened for some sign
of life, but the old man was beyond human aid.

He wheeled the chair to the side of the room and moved the body to the
sofa. Gently he covered it with a robe. The awfulness of the situation
forced itself upon him, and bitterly he blamed himself. The terrible
power of the instrument dawned upon him in all its force. Often he had
played on the strings telling of pity, hope, love and joy, but now,
for the first time, he realized what that fifth string meant.

"I must give it back to its owner."

"If you do you can never regain it," whispered a voice within.

"I do not need it," said the violinist, almost audibly.

"Perhaps not," said the voice, "but if her love should wane how would
you rekindle it? Without the violin you would be helpless."

"Is it not possible that, in this old man's death, all its fatal power
has been expended?"

He went to the table and took the instrument from its place. "You won
her for me; you have brought happiness and sunshine into my life. No!
No! I can not, will not give you up," then placing the violin and bow
in its case he locked it.

The day was breaking. In an hour the baker's boy came. Diotti went to
the door, gave him a note addressed to Mr. Wallace and asked him to
deliver it at once. The boy consented and drove rapidly away.

Within an hour Mr. Wallace arrived; Diotti told the story of the
night. After the undertaker had taken charge of the body he found on
the dead man's neck, just to the left of the chin, a dullish, black
bruise which might have been caused by the pressing of some blunt
instrument, or by a man's thumb. Considering it of much importance, he
notified the coroner, who ordered an inquest.

At six o'clock that evenin