u rather go to--a wedding or a hanging?" I abruptly
questioned the nurse, waking from a troubled nap.

"Calm yourself all you can. You are not so well to-day."

"I am beginning to think better of a hanging," said I. "It seems like a
sure thing, so it's well to get used to it."

"Tut, tut!" said Hygeia softly, adjusting a cold cloth to my brow. She
reported to the doctor that I was wandering again. But I wasn't crazy. I
was looking for consolation.

The detectives had reported Jim with the undertakers in the same
carriage that night, while I was at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and the card
of the notorious Collins, whose specialty, cremations, removed all
traces of such crime, lay on the table. I waited to inquire about the
card until the next morning. The morning came and here I was, alive, but
hardly thankful for my escape. Why was it, I asked myself, that the only
two circumstances, the carriage and the card, that pointed with any
directness to Jim Hosley's guilt, should have come under my notice the
same night? Why, if he had deceived me for years, should he leave a
damaging card where it could be seen by me at a time when he was deep in
one of his most awful crimes? But, on the other hand, had he not fooled
me for ten years? So why should he be careful about the mere card of an
undertaker? How did he know where I had gone that night to be
enlightened? Still, why did he squirm and appear so uneasy when I went
out? Was it only because he had so much to tell me about his
disappointment over the interview with Mr. Tescheron? Certainly, that
must be it. Then came the last "but" of all--Why didn't he come to see
me, or why had I not heard from him? If Jim Hosley had been devoted to
me like a loyal friend there was no possible way for me not to have
heard from him before this. Any man in his right mind could take the
same state of facts and reach no other conclusion. Suspicion had worked
its way through narrow openings, and my doubts were giving way to
convictions, so that soon I believed I would be as much against Hosley
as the fiery Tescheron, when goaded by the mercenary Smith.

I cannot tell how hard it was for me to believe this of Jim Hosley, that
great, lumbering fellow, handsome and manly, the personification of
comfortable, attractive indolence and agreeable indifference.

"Pity you never saw Hosley," said I to Hygeia. She was now prepared to
hear me speak of him at any time.

"What did he look like? Dark and sw