strious family, but forced to earn a livelihood as best he could, and the most speculative of money-lenders would not have e

e Zulu assegais and typhoid fever, and so one morning Aubernon woke up and found himself Lord Argentine, a man of thirty who had faced the difficulties of existence, and had conquered. The situation amused him immensely, and he resolved that riches should be as pleasant to him as poverty had always been. Argentine, after some little consideration, came to the conclusion that dining, regarded as a fine art, was perhaps the most amusing pursuit open to fallen humanity, and thus his dinners became famous in London, and an invitation to his table a thing covetously desired. After ten years of lordship and dinners Argentine still declined to be jaded, still persisted in enjoying life, and by a kind of infection ha

ord Argentine had seen him, and though his master rarely kept late hours, thought little of the occurrence till the next morning, when he knocked at the bedroom door at a quarter to nine as usual. He received no answer, and, after knocking two or three times, entered the room, and saw Lord Argentine's body leaning forward at an angle from the bottom of the bed. He found that his master had tied a cord securely to one of the short bed-posts, and, after making a running noose and slipping it round his neck, the unfortunate man must have resolutely fallen forward, to die by slow strangulation. He was dressed in the light suit in which the valet had seen him go out, and the doctor who was summoned pronounced that life had been ex

black swollen face in the morning. The police had been forced to confess themselves powerless to arrest or to explain the sordid murders of Whitechapel; but before the horrible suicides of Piccadilly and Mayfair they were dumbfoundered, for not even the mere ferocity which did duty as an explanation of the crimes of the East End, could be of service in the West. Each of these men who had resolved to die a tortured shameful death was rich, prosperous, and to all appearances in love with the w

curious to know whether Villiers had succeeded in discovering any fresh traces of Mrs. Herbert,

became of Helen Vaughan after she left Paul Street, but I think she must have gone abroad. But to tell the truth, Austin, I haven't paid much att

now Argentine was a friend of mine. If I remember rightl

Ashley Street, Mrs. Beaumont's house. You sa

was there Argentine dined the n

d not hea

. Beaumont. Argentine was a great favourite of hers, and i

face; he seemed undecided whether t

y of the others for the matter of that - could have resolved in cold blood to die in such an awful manner. You know how men babble away each other's characters in London, you may be sure any buried scandal or hidden skeleton would have been

if weighing his thoughts in the balance, and the considerations he was resolving left him still silent. Austin tried to shake off the remembrance of tragedies

great success; she has taken London almost by storm. I met her

met Mrs.

ace which I didn't like. The features are exquisite, but the expression is strange. And all the time I was looking at her, a

ve seen her

anyone like her; what I felt was a kind of dim far-off memory, vague but persistent. The only sensation I can compare it to, is that o

thing on which to turn the conversation. His eyes fell on an old chest somewhat

the doctor about po

might as well inquire whether Meyrick knew an Englishwoman named Herbert, and if so, whether the doctor could give me any information about her. But i

ible that the woman may

nd me the portrait of her which you possess. I mig

d to me. We might send it now. Ha

lly, drawing nearer and nearer, a very torrent of sound; surging up streets usually quiet, and making every window a frame for a face, curious or excited. The cries

s; Another Awful Sui

paragraph to Villiers as the uproar in the street rose and fell.

The deceased gentleman dined last night at the Carlton Club and seemed in his usual health and spirits. He left the club at about ten o'clock, and was seen walking leisurely up St. James's Street a little later. Subsequent to this his movements cannot be traced. On the discovery of the body medical aid was at onc

wn the paper

he said, "it is a city of nightm

nto the street. He had listened to the newspaper report atte

on a little matter that occurred last night. It stated, I think, that

ill look again. Yes,

dict that statement at all events. Crashaw wa

o you

e Crashaw myself at about

ashaw? You,

inctly; indeed, there were

ven's name, di

him in Ashley Street. He

tice what h

as Mrs. Be

rashaw be in Mrs. Beaumont's house at two o'clock in the morning? Surely, sur

I had been dreaming as you say, what I

ere anything strange about Crashaw? But

I saw, or if you please, what I think

ood, Vi

houting still came from the distance, and the dull, leaden silence seemed like the qu

's hoofs. I walked along pretty briskly, for I was feeling a little tired of being out in the night, and as the clocks were striking two I turned down Ashley Street, which, you know, is on my way. It was quieter than ever there, and the lamps were fewer; altogether, it looked as dark and gloomy as a forest in winter. I had done about half the length of the street when I heard a door closed very softly, and naturally I looked up to see who was abroad like myself a

hy

ard form remained, but all hell was within it. Furious lust, and hate that was like fire, and the loss of all hope and horror that seemed to shriek aloud to the night, though his teeth were shut; and the utter blackness of despair. I am sure that he did not see me; he saw not

he light was failing, and all the tumult of an hour ago was quite hushed. Aus

mean?" he s

rselves, for the present at any rate. I will see if I cannot learn anything about that house