ish, Stygian stream. Bats, startled by the light, fluttered in
their faces, and then disappeared in the darkness.

As the boat glided on, the match burned out in Count Kallash's
fingers. He threw it into the water, and opened his matchbox to take
another.

At the same moment he felt a sharp blow on the head, followed by a
second, and he sank senseless in the bottom of the boat.

"Where is the money?" cried Bodlevski, who had struck him with the
handle of the oar. "Get his coat open!" and the baroness deftly drew
the thick packet from the breast pocket of his coat. "Here it is! I
have it!" she replied quickly.

"Now, overboard with him! Keep the body steady!" A dull splash, and
then silence. "To-night we shall sleep secure!"

They counted without their host. Princess Anna had also her scheme of
vengeance, and had worked it out, without a word to her brother. When
Natasha and Bodlevski entered their apartment, they found the police
in possession, and a few minutes later both were under arrest.
Abundant evidence of fraud and forgery was found in their dwelling,
and the vast Siberian solitudes avenged the death of their last
victim.

JOeRGEN WILHELM BERGSOeE

_THE AMPUTATED ARMS_

It happened when I was about eighteen or nineteen years old (began Dr.
Simsen). I was studying at the University, and being coached in
anatomy by my old friend Soelling. He was an amusing fellow, this
Solling. Full of jokes and whimsical ideas, and equally merry, whether
he was working at the dissecting table or brewing a punch for a jovial
crowd.

He had but one fault--if one might call it so--and that was his
exaggerated idea of punctuality. He grumbled if you were late two
minutes; any longer delay would spoil the entire evening for him. He
himself was never known to be late. At least not during the entire
years of my studying.

One Wednesday evening our little circle of friends met as usual in my
room at seven o'clock. I had made the customary preparations for the
meeting, had borrowed three chairs--I had but one myself--had cleaned
all my pipes, and had persuaded Hans to take the breakfast dishes from
the sofa and carry them downstairs. One by one my friends arrived, the
clock struck seven, and to our great astonishment, Solling had not yet
appeared. One, two, even five minutes passed before we heard him run
upstairs and knock at the door with his characteristic short blows.

When he entered the room he looked so angry