e mistake; but here is the notice," and she handed
him the paper.

Hurriedly he ran his eye along the death notices until he came to this
one:

"EASTON, VIOLET.--On the 17th day of March, at the residence
of her father, K Street, Washington, of diphtheria, aged
twenty-three years. Notice of funeral hereafter."

For some time he sat there as if stunned, until his wife broke in upon
his thoughts.

"It seems to me," she said, "that you take this matter very much to
heart."

He did not answer her, but soon excused himself, and left the table.

He went straight to his office and into his private room. With trembling
fingers he made out the combination of the safe, and opened the heavy
iron doors. There, where he had placed it the night before, lay the
sealed envelope. Beads of perspiration stood out upon his forehead, and
he was shaking like an aspen leaf. Surely, he thought, I must be ill or
mad. He took the envelope and tore it open; his hands were trembling so
that he found it difficult to unfold the document. There, at the bottom,
in her clear handwriting, was the signature of Violet Easton. There,
also, were the signatures of the janitor and his wife. In feverish haste
he read the will. It was just as he had written it the night before. It
left all her money to her father with the exception of a few gifts.

Midnight had been left to him. He remembered protesting, but she had
told him that she was sure he would always be kind to the animal.

He rang the bell, and John appeared.

"Did you show a lady in here last night just before you went home?"

"No, sir."

"Are you positive?"

"Yes, sir."

"Go and get the janitor, and tell him I wish to speak to him."

In a few minutes that dignitary put in an appearance.

"Is that your signature?" and Jack handed him the will.

"Yes, sir; I signed it last night at your request, and so did my wife."

"Was there a lady here at the time?"

"No, sir."

Jack put his hand up to his forehead. "My God!" he muttered, "I must be
going mad." Suddenly everything began to whirl about him, and he sank
exhausted into his chair.

"John," he said, "send for a cab; I am feeling very ill, and must go
home."

Four days later he was dead. The family doctor pronounced the case one
of malignant diphtheria.

THE END

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Transcriber's Note:

Irregularities in hyphenation (e.g. wide-spre