asure of your companionship; and do not imagine that you can
force people to be polite to you by threats; that is not the way at all.
Go home and sleep away your anger; and do not imagine that you have any
advantage in your position, or that you are less responsible for what
has been done than any one."

"I am not so sure about that," said Reitzei, sullenly.

"In the morning you will be sure," said the other, compassionately, as
if he were talking to a child.

He held out his hand.

"Come, friend Reitzei," said he, with a sort of pitying kindness, "you
will find in the morning it will be all right. What happened to-night
was well arranged, and well executed; everybody must be satisfied. And
if you were a little too exuberant in your protestations, a little too
anxious to accept the work yourself, and rather too demonstrative with
your tremblings and your professions of courage and your clutching at
the bottle: what then? Every one is not a born actor. Every one must
make a mistake sometimes. But you won't take my hand?"

"Oh, Mr. Beratinsky," said the other, with profound sarcasm, "how could
you expect it? Take the hand of one so wise as you, so great as you,
such a logician as you are? It would be too much honor; but if you will
allow me I will bid you good-night."

He turned abruptly and left. Beratinsky stood for a moment or so looking
after him; then he burst into a fit of laughter that sounded along the
empty street. Reitzei heard the laughing behind him.

CHAPTER XLIV.

TWICE-TOLD TALE.

When the door had closed on George Brand, Natalie stood for a second or
two uncertain, to collect her bewildered thoughts. She heard his
footsteps growing fainter and fainter: the world seemed to sway around
her; life itself to be slipping away. Then suddenly she turned, and
seized her mother by both her hands.

"Child, child, what is the matter?" the mother cried, terrified by the
piteous eyes and white lips.

"Ah, you could not have guessed," the girl said, wildly, "you could not
have guessed from his manner what he has told me, could you? He is not
one to say much; he is not one to complain. But he is about to lose his
life, mother--to lose his life! and it is I who have led him to this; it
is I who have killed him!"

"Natalie," the mother exclaimed, turning rather pale, "you don't know
what you are saying."

"But it is true; do not you understand, mother?" the girl said,
despairingly. "The Society has