y one
should ask what had become of it, and thus suspicions might be aroused.
Ah! every time I have come into this room it has haunted me--I seem to
see that terrible scene before my eyes--how--how they----"

But she broke off short, and covering her face with both hands added,
after a few seconds' silence:

"Ah! yes, take it away--never let me gaze upon it again. But I beg of
you, dear, to--to preserve my secret--my terrible secret!"

And she burst into tears.

"Not a single word shall pass my lips, neither shall a single soul see
this knife. I will take it and cast it away--better to the bottom of the
Thames. To-night it shall be in a place where it can never be found. So
go to your room, and rest assured that you, darling, have at least one
friend--myself."

I felt her breast heave and fall as I held her in my strong embrace.

Then without words she raised her white, tear-stained face and kissed me
long and fondly; afterwards she left me, and in silence tottered from the
room, closing the door after her.

I still held the knife in my hand--the weapon by which the terrible deed
had been perpetrated.

What could I think? What would you, my reader, have thought if the woman
you love stood in the same position as Phrida Shand--which God forbid?

I stood reflecting, gazing upon the antique poignard. Then slowly and
deliberately I made up my mind, and placing the unsheathed knife in my
breast pocket I went out into the hall, put on my coat and hat, and left
the house.

Half an hour later I halted casually upon Westminster Bridge, and when no
one was near, cast the ancient "Misericordia" into the dark flowing
waters of the river, knowing that Edwards and his inquisitive assistants
could never recover it as evidence against my love.

Four days later I received a letter from Fremy, dated from the Hotel
National at Strasbourg, stating that he had traced the fugitives from
Munich to the latter city, but there he had lost all trace of them. He
believed they had gone to Paris, and with his chief's permission he was
leaving for the French capital that night.

Weeks passed--weeks of terror and apprehension for my love, and of
keenest anxiety for myself.

The month of May went by, spring with all her beauties appeared in the
parks and faded in the heat and dust, while the London season commenced.
Men who were otherwise never seen in town, strolled up and down St.
James's Street and Piccadilly, smart women rode in the