enly expanded, as if about to burst, his limbs were
drawn up and distorted, blue flames shot forth with a weird glow, a
sickening odor of burning flesh saturated the air, and quicker than it
takes to tell, the deadly current had penetrated through every fiber of
his body.

"And then, as all turned away their heads from the awful sight, a loud
crash was heard, and the door leading from the court-yard into the other
room burst open, and in rushed the Warden, yelling like a madman: 'Stop
it! For God's sake, stop it! You are killing the wrong man!' And pulling
open the door of the closet which concealed the Electrician, he threw
off the current with his own hands. At the same time, amidst great
confusion, several of the spectators rushed forward and began
unfastening the straps which bound the unfortunate man to the chair,
after which the body was carried into the other room and laid upon the
table.

"Following in the footsteps of the Warden, was a tall, beautiful, young
woman, hatless, and with hair disheveled and dress disarranged. She was
panting heavily, and a wild, terrified look gleamed in her eyes. She
appeared dazed and almost exhausted. Catching sight of Convert, she
frantically tried to get near him, but was held in check by one of the
doctors, while the other one made a hurried examination of the body. And
then, this doctor, apparently suffering from great mental excitement,
turned toward those present, and, with his eyes full of tears, chokingly
whispered, 'Too late, he is dead.'

"At these terrible words, the young woman uttered a heart-piercing
shriek, and, rushing forward, threw herself upon the corpse, as she
piteously moaned: 'You have murdered him. You have murdered him.'"

FROM THE NEW YORK DAILY.

"The following statement, made by one of Chicago's most beautiful and
brilliant young society women, is the sequel to the most extraordinary
case that ever attracted public attention in this country:

"'My name is Arletta Wright. My father is R. U. Wright, of Chicago,
Ill., the well-known financier and multi-millionaire. A few years ago,
while in Paris, I was introduced to a man by the name of John Convert. I
supposed he was an American, but at that time did not take enough
interest in him to inquire as to who he was or where he came from.
Later, however, I found that he was continually crossing my path, and
appeared anxious to court my attention. He was a tall, well-built,
handsome man, with a clean-sha