unged the dagger into her brain.

So firm and true was her hand that the slender blade pierced the thin
bone of her right temple, and was driven in until the hilt made an
impression on her white skin like a seal upon wax.

Jones uttered a scream of horror at this sight. He, too, had attempted
to stay her hand, but had been too slow.

As she fell, he plucked the dagger from the wound and attempted to drive
it into his own brain. But Nick caught his arm and wrested the
blood-stained weapon from him.

Deprived thus of the means for ending his life, Jones fell upon his
knees before the woman and covered her hands with kisses, nor could he
be taken away, until the hands were chilled by death.

And that was the strange end of the affair. The woman's confession,
though it may not have been true, will doubtless save Jones' life.

At the time of this writing the district attorney is of the opinion that
a plea of murder in the second degree had better be accepted. There is
no indication that the prisoner will fight the case.

So Jones will spend his days in prison, though he will escape the death
chair.

A word should be added about the witness, Gaspard. He has been cleared
of all reproach, and has sailed for France with his bride.

THE END.

NICK CARTER'S GHOST STORY.

CHAPTER I.

THE VANISHING THIEF.

Nick Carter's friends often ask him whether, in the course of his
remarkable experience as a detective, he has ever encountered anything
which could not have been the work of human hands.

Few people, nowadays, will own that they believe in ghosts. Yet most of
us would be less sure about it in a grave-yard at midnight than on
Broadway at noon.

A man who can tell a reasonable story about having seen a ghost may not
find many believers, but he will get plenty of listeners, for we are all
eager to hear about such things.

So Nick, who always likes to oblige his friends, does not deny the
existence of spirits when he is asked whether he ever saw any. On the
contrary, if he has the time to spare, he usually tells the following
story:

A broad-shouldered, square-jawed, bright-eyed young man called on Nick
one afternoon, and was ushered into the study.

His card had gone up ahead of him, and it bore the name--Horace G.
Richmond.

Nick ran his eye over his visitor, and decided that he was a fellow who
knew the world and was getting everything out of it that there is in it.

He met Nick's eye with