destruction. His downfall, too, will not be more precipitate than
awkward. It is all very well to talk about the _facilis descensus
Averni_; but in all kinds of climbing, as Catalani said of singing, it
is far more easy to get up than to come down. In the present instance I
have no sympathy, at least no pity, for him who descends. He is that
_monstrum horrendum_, an unprincipled man of genius. I confess, however,
that I should like very well to know the precise character of his
thoughts, when, being defied by her whom the Prefect terms 'a certain
personage,' he is reduced to opening the letter which I left for him in
the card-rack."

"How? did you put anything particular in it?"

"Why, it did not seem altogether right to leave the interior blank; that
would have been insulting. D----, at Vienna once, did me an evil turn,
which I told him, quite good-humouredly, that I should remember. So, as
I knew he would feel some curiosity in regard to the identity of the
person who had outwitted him, I thought it a pity not to give him a
clew. He is well acquainted with my MS., and I just copied into the
middle of the blank sheet the words

"'--Un dessein si funeste,
S'il n'est digne d'Atree, est digne de Thyeste.'

They are to be found in Crebillon's _Atree_."

II

THE BLACK HAND

ARTHUR B. REEVE[A]

Kennedy and I had been dining rather late one evening at Luigi's, a
little Italian restaurant on the lower West Side. We had known the place
well in our student days, and had made a point of visiting it once a
month since, in order to keep in practice in the fine art of gracefully
handling long shreds of spaghetti. Therefore we did not think it strange
when the proprietor himself stopped a moment at our table to greet us.
Glancing furtively around at the other diners, mostly Italians, he
suddenly leaned over and whispered to Kennedy:

"I have heard of your wonderful detective work, Professor. Could you
give a little advice in the case of a friend of mine?"

"Surely, Luigi. What is the case?" asked Craig, leaning back in his
chair.

Luigi glanced around again apprehensively and lowered his voice. "Not so
loud, sir. When you pay your check, go out, walk around Washington
Square, and come in at the private entrance. I'll be waiting in the
hall. My friend is dining privately upstairs."

We lingered a while over our chianti, then quietly paid the check and
departed.

True to his word, Luigi was waiti