hurry back: won't you?" she rejoined, as he
left the apartment.

In a few moments he returned, prepared to start, and was speedily driven to
Winter-street. He found a group of people gathered before the gate, gazing
into the house. "The place has been attacked," said he, as he walked
towards the front door--picking his way amidst fragments of furniture,
straw, and broken glass. At the entrance of the house he was met by Mr.
Balch, Mr. Garie's lawyer.

"This is a shocking affair, Walters," said he, extending his hand--he was
an old friend of Mr. Walters.

"Very shocking, indeed," he replied, looking around. "But where is Garie?
We sent to warn them of this. I hope they are all safe."

"Safe!" repeated Mr. Balch, with an air of astonishment. "Why, man, haven't
you heard?"

"Heard what?" asked Mr. Walters, looking alarmed.

"That Mr. and Mrs. Garie are dead--both were killed last night."

The shock of this sudden and totally unexpected disclosure was such that
Mr. Walters leaned against the doorway for support. "It can't be possible,"
he exclaimed at last, "not dead!" "Yes, _dead_, I regret to say--he was
shot through the head--and she died in the wood-house, of premature
confinement, brought on by fright and exposure."

"And the children?" gasped Walters.

"They are safe, with some neighbours--it's heart-breaking to hear them
weeping for their mother." Here a tear glistened in the eye of Mr. Balch,
and ran down his cheek. Brushing it off, he continued: "The coroner has
just held an inquest, and they gave a most truthless verdict: nothing
whatever is said of the cause of the murder, or of the murderers; they
simply rendered a verdict--death caused by a wound from a pistol-shot, and
hers--death from exposure. There seemed the greatest anxiety on the part of
the coroner to get the matter over as quickly as possible, and few or no
witnesses were examined. But I'm determined to sift the matter to the
bottom; if the perpetrators of the murder can be discovered, I'll leave no
means untried to find them."

"Do you know any one who sat on the inquest?" asked Walters.

"Yes, one," was the reply, "Slippery George, the lawyer; you are acquainted
with him--George Stevens. I find he resides next door."

"Do you know," here interrupted Mr. Walters, "that I've my suspicions that
that villain is at the bottom of these disturbances or at least has a large
share in them. I have a paper in my possession, in his handwriting--it