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THE FLOWERS COLLECTION 1 S^c Woman in the Alcove Ji Story of Love and Thrilling Interest n '% Bv ANNA CATHERINE %/EENE, Author of “The Millionaire Baby,” “The Filigree Ball,” Etc., Etc. X ^ & - Copyright by The Bobbs-Merrill Co. VI.I. cyr t 1 > 'bo outdone by the editor, I Insert the article here with all its detail.-, he importance of which i trust I have anticipated. Santa Fe, X. M., April .Arrived, in Santa Fo. 1 inquired where Abner Fairbrother could he found. I was told that ho was at his mine, siclt. Upon inquiring as to the location of the Flacide, i. was informed that it was fifteen miles or so distant in the moun tains, and upon my expressing an inten tion of going there immediately, I was given what I thought very unnecessary advice and then directed to a certain livery stable, whore I could get the right kind of a horse and such equipment as i stood in need of. I thought I was equipped all right as it was, but I said nothing and went on to tiie livery stable. Here I was shown a horse which l took to at once and was about to •mount, when a pair of leggings was brought to me. “You will need these for your jour ney,” said the man. "Journey!" I repeated. “Fifteen miles!” The livery stable keeper—a hall-breed with peculiarly pleasant smile—cocked up ids shoulders with the remark: “Three men as willing but as inexpe rienced as yourself (have attempted —>e same journey during the last week and they all came back before they reached the divide. Yon will probably come back, too: but I shall give you as fair a. tart as if I knew you were going straight through.” “Bur. a woman has done it,” said 1; • a nurse from the hospital went up that very road last week.” Oil, women! they can do anything— • v .- • P Yt. ikoy start off alone. You are going alone.” "Yes." I remarked grimly. ".Newspaper correspondents make their journeys sin gly when they can.” -Ohi you are it newspaper correspon dent! Why do so many men from ttie papers want to see that sick old man? Because lie's so rich?” “Don’t you know?” I asked. He did not 3eem to. ! wondered at his ignorance, but did not enlighten him. “Follow the trail and ask your way from time to time. All the goatherds know where t.he Flacide mine is.” riu t were his simple instructions as l,e headed my horse toward the canyon. 1:iii as 1 drew off. no shouted out: "ff you get stuck, leave it to the horse. He knows more about It than you do. ' With a vague gesture toward the north west, he turned away, leaving me in con templation of the grandest scenery 1 had yet come upon in all my travels. Fifteen miles! but those miles lay through Uio very heart of the mountains, ranging anywheru from six to seven thousand feet high. In ten minutes the city and ail signs of city life were out of sight, in live more 1 was seemingly as lar removed from all civilization as if I had gone a hundred miles into the wilderness. As my horse settled down to work, picking his way, now here and now there, sometimes over the in-own earth, hard and baked as in a thousand fur naces, and sometimes over the stunted grass whose needlo-lik® stalks seemed never to have known moisture, I let ray eyes roam to such peaks as -were not cut off from view by the nearer hill sides, and wondered whether the snow which capped them was whiter than any other ••;• the blue of the sky bluer, that tiie two together had the effect upon me of cameo work on a huge and unap proachable scale. Bert-air,b the effect of these grand mountains. Into which you leap without any preparation front -the streets and market places of America’s oldest city', is such as is not easily described. \Ye struck water now and then—nar row water i-ourscs which my horse fol lowed in mid stream, and, more inter esting yet. goat herds with their flocks. Mexicans a”, who seemed to understand no English, l>ut were picturesque enough, to Took at and a welcome break In the extreme lores,oneness of tiie way. J had licet) told that they would serve me as guides if 1 felt at all doubtful of the trail, and in one or two instances they proved to be decided help. They could gesticulate, if they could not speak English, and when I tried them with the one word Platide they would nod anti point out which of the many side canyons T was to follow. But they al- ways looked up ns they did so. up. up, •till T took ‘to looking up. too. and when, after miles multiplied indefinitely by the winding of tiie trail. I came out upon a ledge from which a full view of the op posite range could be had, and saw fronting me, from tiie side of one of its tremendous peaks, the gap of a vast nolo not two hundred feet from tiie snow line. T knew that, Inaces-fiLle as it looked. 1 was gazing up at 1b opening of Abner Kalrhrother's new mine, tiie Flaehle. The experience was a strange one. Tiie two ranges approached so nearly that it seemed as if a hall might lie tossed from one to the other. But the chasm between was stupendous. I grew dizzy as T looked downward and saw the end less zigzags yet to he traversed step by- step before the bottom of tiie canyon could be reached, and then the equally interminable zigzags tip tiie acclivity ]>e- ynnd. ail of which 1 must trace, still step by step, before 1 could hope to ar rive .c tne camp which, from where 1 stood, looked to bo almost within hall of my voice. J have described tiie mine as a hole. That was ail 1 saw at first—a great; black hole in the dark brown earth of the mountain side, from which ran down a still darker streak into the waste places f-ar below it. But as I looked longer I saw that it was faced by a ledge out of the friable soil, on which 1 was now able to descry 'the pronounced white of two or three tent-tops and some other signs of life, encouraging enough to tiie eye of one whose lot it was to crawl, like a fly up that tre mendous mountain side. Truly I could understand why those three men, probably newspaper corres pondents like myself, had turned back to Santa Fe, alter a glance from my present outlook. But though I under stood I did not mean to duplicate ,their retreat. The sight of those tents, the thought of what one of them contained, Inspired me with new courage, and releasing ray grip upon the rein, I allowed my patient horse to proceed. Shortly after this 1 passed tiie divide— that is where the water sheds both ways —•then the descent began. I t was zigzag, just as the climb had been, but I pre ferred the climb, I did not have the unfathomable spaces so constantly before me, nor was my imagination so active. It was fixed on heights >to he attained rather than on valleys to roll onto, tiow- ever. I did not roll. The Mexican saddle held me se curely at whatever angle I was poised, and once the bottom m as reached 1 found that 1 could face, with considerable equanimity, the corresponding ascent. Only, as I saw -how steep the climb bade fair to -be, 1 did not see how 1 was ever to come down again. Going up was possible, but the descent— However, as what goes up must in tiie course of nature come down, 1 put this question aside and gave my horse his load, after encouraging him with a few blades of grass, which he seemed to find “Lillie '*1 <* I ;,r»y t : lOuix and something of the feel of spun glass. How we got there you must ask this good animal, who took all tiie responsi bility and did all the work. 1 merely dung and balanced, and at times, when he rounded tiie end of a zigzag, for in stance, I even shut my eyes, though the prospect was magnificent. At last even his patience seemed to give out, and lie stopped and trembled. But before I could open ray eyes on the abyss beneath lie made another effort. I felt the brush of tree branches across my face, and, look ing up, saw before me the lodge or plat form dotted with tents, at which I had looked with such longing from the oppo site hillsides. Simultaneously I heard voices, and saw approaching a bronzed and bearded man with strongly-marked Scotch features and a determined air. “The doctor!’- I involuntarily exclaimed, with a glance at the small and curious tent before which lie stood guard. "Yes, the doctor.” he answered in un expectedly good English. “And who are you? Have you brought the mail and liiose medicines I sent for?" “No,” J replied with as propitiatory a smile as 1 could muster up in face of Jiis brusk forbidding expression. “I came on my own errand. I am a representative of the New York , and f hope you will not deny me a word with Mr. Fair- brother.” With a gesture I hardly knew how to interpret he took my horse by tiie rein and led us on a few steps toward an other large tent, where lie motioned me to descend. Then he laid his hand on my shou-lder and, foreing me to meet his eye, said: “You have made this journey—I believe you said from New York to see Mr. Fail-brother. Why?” “Because Mr. Fairbrother js at present tiie most sought-for man in America,” I returned boldly. “His wife—you know about his wife—” "No. How should I know about his wife? 1 know what his temperature is and what his respiration is——but his wife? What about his wife? He don’t know anything about her now himself; lie is not allowed to read letters.” “But you read tiie papers. You must have known, before you left Santa Fc, of Mrs. Falrbrotlier’s foul and most mys terious murder in New York. It lias been tlic theme of two continents for the last ten days.” He shrugged Ills shoulders, which might, mean anything, anil confined his reply to a repetition of my own words. “.Mrs. Fairbrother murdered!” he ex claimed, but in a suppressed voice, to which point was given liy tiie cautious look lie cast behind him at the tent which had drawn my attention. “He must not know it. man. I could not answer for his life if lie received the least shock in his present critical condition. Murdered? "When?” “Ten days ago, at a hall in New York. Tt was alter Mr. Fairbrother left the city. He was expected to return, after hearing the news, but lie seems to have kept straight on to his destination-. He was not very fond of his wife—that is. they have not been living together for the last year. But he could not help feeling the shock of her death which lie must have heard of somewhere along tiie route.” “He lias said nothing in his delirium to show that lie knew it. It is possible, just possible, that he didn't read the pa pers. He could not have been well for days before ho reached Santa Fe. - ’ “When were you called in to attend him?" "The very night after he reached this place. It was thought lie wouldn't live to reach tiie camp. But lie is a man of great pluck. He held up till his foot touched this platform. Then he suc cumbed.” “If he was as si- < as that,” I muttered, ”wliy did he leave Santa Fe? He must have known what it would mean to be sick here.” “I don’t think lie did. This is his first visit to the mine. He evidently knew nothing of the difficulties of the road. But lie would not stop. He was determined to reach the camp, even after he had been given a sight of it from the opposite mountain. He told them that he had once crossed the Sierras in midwinter. But he wasn l a sick man then.” "Doctor, they don’t know who killed his wife.” ’He didn’t.” “1 gnow, but under such ’circum stances every fact bearing on tiie event is of immense importance. There is one which Mr. Fairbrother only can make clear. It can be said in a word—” The grim doctor’s eye flashed angri ly and I stopped. “Were you a detective from the dis trict attorney’s office in New York, sent on with special powers to exam ine him, I should still sa.4 what I am going to say now. Wb ! c Mr. Fair- brother’s temperature and pulse re main where they now are, no one shall see him and no one shall talk to him save myself and his nurse.” I turned with a sick look of disap pointment toward the road up which I had so lately come. “Have I panted, sweltered, trembled, for three mortal hours on the worst trail a man ever traversed to go back with nothing for my journey? That seems to me hard lines. Where is the manager of this mine?” The doctor pointed toward a man bending over the edge of the great hole from which, at that moment, a line of Mexicans was issuing, eaclt with a sack on Ills back which lie flung down before what looked like a fur nace built of clay. "That’s lie Mr. Hallies, of ’ ‘ dclpl ia. What" do ycru want of ,\W “Permission to stay the night. Mr. Fairbrother may he better tomorrow." “I won’t allow it. and I am master here, so far as my patient is concerned. You couldn’t stay here without talk ing, and talking makes excitement, and excitement is just what lie can not stand. A week from now I will see about it—that is. if my patient con tinues to improve. I am not stire that lie will.” “Let me spend that week here. I'll not talk any more than the dead. Maybe tiie manager will let me carry sacks." “Look here,” said the doctor, edging me farther and farther away from tent lie hardly let out of his sight for a moment. ’’You're a canny lad. and shall have your bite and something to drink before you take your way back. But back you go before sunset and with tliis message: No man from any paper north or south will be received here till 1 hang out a blue flag. I say blue, for that is tiie eolor of ray bandana. When my patient is in a condition to discuss murder I'll hoist it from his tent top. It can be seen from the divide, and if you want to camp there on tiie lookout, well and good. As for the police, tiiat’s another matter. 1 will see them if they come, but they need not expect to talk to my patient. You may say so down there. It will save scrambling tip this trail to no purpose.” “You may count on me.” said I; “trust a New York correspondent to do the right tiling at the right time to head off Hie boys. But I doubt if they will believe me.” In that case I shall have a barri cade thrown up 50 feet down the moun tain side,” said lie. "But the mail and your supplies?” “Oli, the burros can make their way up. We shan’t suffer.” “You are certainly master,” I re marked. Ail this time I had been using my eves. There was not much to see, but what tiierc was was romantically interesting. Aside from the furnace and wliat was going op there, there was little else but a sleeping tent, a cooking tent, and the small one I had come on first, which, without the least doubt, contained the sick man. This last tent, was of a peculiar construc tion and showed tiie primitive nature of everything at tliis height. It con sisted simply of a cloth thrown' over a thing like a trapeze. This doth did not even come to the ground on ei'hor side. but stopped short a foot c? so from the flat mound of adobe which serves as a base or floor for liut or tent in New Mexico. The rear of the simple tent abutted on t!;e mountian side; the opening was toward tiie val ley. 1 felt an intense desire to look into this opening—so intense that I thought I would venture on an attempt to gratify it. Scrutinizing the resolute face of t he man -before me and flattering myself that T detected signs of humor underlying his professional bruskness, T asked, somewhat mournfully, if he would let me go away without so much as a glance at tiie man I had come po far to see. "A glimpse would satisfy me now." I assured him, as the hint of a twinkle flashed in his eye. “Surely there will lie no harm in that. I’ll take it in stead of supper." Ho smiled, but not encouragingly, and T was feeling very despondent, indeed, when the canvas on which our eyes were fixed suddenly shook and the calm figure oT a woman stepped out before ns. clad in the simplest garb, but show ing in every line of face and form a. character of minded kindness anil shrewdness. Site was evidently on tiie lookout for tiie doctor, for she made a sign as sue saw mm a.id returned m- Btduatly into the -tent. "Mr. Fairbrother has just fallen asleep," he explained. “It isn't discipline and I shall have to apologize to Miss Berra, but if you will promise not to speak nor make the least disturbance 1 will let you take tiie one peep you pre fer to supper.” “I promise,” said I. Leading the way to the opening, he whispered a word to tiie nurse, then motioned to me to look in. The sight was a simple one, lint to me very impres sive. Tiie owner of palaces, a man to 'Whom millions were as thousands to such poor devils as myself, lay on an improvised bed of evergreens, wrapped hi a horse blanket and witli nothing better than another of these rolled up under his head. At his side sat his nurse on what looked like tiie uneven stump of a tree. Close to her hand was a tolerably flat stone, on which I saw arranged a number of bottles and such other comforts as were absolutely neces sary to a. proper care of the sufferer. That was all. In these few words I have told ithe whole story. To be sure, this simple tent, perched seven thousand feet and more above sea-level, had one advantage which even ills great house in Now York could not offer. This was tiie outlook. Lying as lie did facing tiie valley, lie had only to open his eyes to catch a full view of tiie panorama of sky and mountain stretched out before him. Jt was glorious; whether seen at morning, noon or night, glorious. But I doubt if he would not gladly have ex changed it for a sight of his home walls. As T started to go, a stir took place in lie blanket wrapped about his chin, and I caught a glimpse of tiie iron-gray head and hollow cheeks of the great, financier. He was a very sick man. Even I could see that. Had T obtained tie permission T sought and been allow ed to ask him one of the many questions burning on my tongue, 1 should have received only delirium for reply. There was no reaching that clouded intelligence now. and I felt grateful to the doctor nil- rC,’. luring tne of it. i told him so and thanked him quite warmly when we were well away from tiie tent, and his answer was almost kindly, though he made no effort to hide his impatience and anxiety 'to see me go. The looks he cast at tiie sun were significant, and, having no wish to an- tagoni-o him and every wisli to visit tiie spot again. I moved toward my horse with the Intention of untying him. To my surprise the doctor held me : m ■- said he, “vour down and ledge hung. The ex refrain. 1 “You c-an't. go tonight, horse lias hurt himself.” It was true. There was something the matter witli -tiie animal’s left forefoot. As tiie doctor lifted it. the manager • ante up. lie agreed with the doctor. 1 could not make tiie descent to Santa Fe on that horse that night. Did 1 feel elated? Ratherr 1 liad no wish to de- send. Yet 1 was far from foreseeing what tiie night was to bring me. T was turned over to tiie manager, but not without a final injunction front the doctor. “Noit a word to any one about your errand! Not a word about the New York tragedy, as you value Mr. Fai r b ro t h er' s 1: fe. ” "Not a word,” said I. . Then lie left me. To see -tiie sun go the moon come up from a ns it were, in mid air! perience was novel—but f iiaev more important matters to relate. I was given a bunk at tiie extreme end of tiie long sleeping tent, and turned m with the rest. [ expected to sleep, but 011 finding that T could eatcli a sight of the sick tent from under the canvas, T experienced such fascination in watching this forbidden spot tHat midnight cam. lielore 1 itad closed my eyes. Then all desire to sleep left, me, for the patient, began moan and presently to talk, and. the stillness of the solitary height being something abnormal, I could sometimes catch tiie very words. Devoid as they were of all rational meaning, they ex cited my curiosity to the burning point; for who could tell if lie might not say something bearing on the mystery? But that feverish mind itad recurred to early scenes and the babble which came to my ears was all of mining camps in the Hookies and the dicker of horses. Perhaps the uneasy movement of my horse pulling at tiie end of his tether itad disturbed him. Perhaps— But at the inner utterance of tiie sec ond “perhaps” I 1’otind myself up on :n\- elbow listening with all my ears, and staring with wide-stretched eyes at the thicket of stunted trees where the road debouched on the platform. Something was astir there beside my horse. I could catch sounds of an unmistakable nature. A rider was coming up the trail. Slipping back into my place, T turned toward the doctor, who lay some two or three hunks nearer the opening. Tie had started tip, too, and in a moment was out of tiie tent. I do not think lie had observed my action, for it was very- dark where I lay and his back had been turned toward me. As for the others, they- slept like tiie dead, only they made more noise. Interested—everything is interesting at such a height—I brought iny r eye to bear on the ledge, and soon saw by the limpid light of a full moon the stiff, short branches of the trees, on which ray gaze was tixed. give way to an advancing horse and rider. "Halloo!” saluted Hie doctor in a whis per. which was in itself a warning. ”Easy there! We have sickness in this camp and it’s a lato hour for visitors.” “I know.” Tiie answer was subdued, but earnest. “I’m the magistrate of this district. I’ve a question to ask tliis sick man, on be- •• • m ••• • •• • • -c- • a .o • a ••• *» •©• a a ••• i half of the New York chief of police, who is a personal friend of mine. It is con nected with—” “Hush!” The doctor had seized him by the arm and turned his face away from tiie sick tent. Then the two heads came together and ari argument began. T could not hear a word of it, but their motions were eloquent. My- sympathy was with the magistrate, of course, and I watched eagerly while he passed a letter over to the doctor, who vainly strove to read it by the light of tiie moon. Finding this impossible, he was about to return it, when the other struck a match aI| d lit a lantern hanging from tiie horn of his saddle. The two heads came together again, but us quickly separated with every appearance of irreconcilement, and I was settling back with sensations of great disappointment, when a sound fell on i he night so unexpectedly to all con cerned that with a common impulse each eye sought the sick tent. “Water! will some one give me water?” a voice had cried, quietly -and with none of tiie delirium which had hitherto ren dered it unnatural. The doctor started for the tent. There was the quickness of surprise in his move ment and the gesture he made to the magistrate, as he passed in, reawakened an expectation in my breast which made me doubly watchful. Providence was intervening in our fa vor, and I was not surprised to see him presently reissue with the nurse, whom he drew into the shadow of the trees, where they had a short conference, if she returned alone into the tent after this conference T should know that the matter was at an end and that the doc tor had decided to maintain his author ity’ against that of tiie magistrate. But she remained outside and the magistrate was invited to join their 1 euncil; when they again left the shad ow of the trees it was to approach the t* r,t. The magistrate, who was in the rear, could not have more than passed tiie i | - rung, o ,t i -.nougat linn far enough inside not to detect any movement on 111-.- part, so T took advantage of the sit- r.tion to worm myself out of my cor ner and across the lodge to where thee ti at made a shadow in the moonlight. Crouching close, and laying my ear against the canvas, T listened. The nurse was speaking in a gently persuasive tone. 1 Imagined her kneel ing by the head of the ipattent and breathing words into his ear. These re iwliat I heard: “You love diamonds. T have often no- t eed that: you look so long at the ring i your hand. That is why I have !et i‘. stay titeie, though at times I have arcq it would drop off and roll awav • ver tiie adobe down the mountain side. Was I right?” “Yes, yes.” The words came with dif ficulty. hut they were clear enough. “It’s of small valve, r like it because—’ lie appeared to be too weak to finish. A pause, during which sue seemed to edge nearer to him. “We all have some pet keepsake," said she. “But T should never have supposed t .its stone of yours an inexpensive one I lit I forgot that you are the owner of , very large and remarkable diamoni. a diamond that is spoken of sometimes in tiie ipapers. Of course, if you have a gem like that, this one must appear very small and valueless to yotn.” “Yes, this is nothing, nothing.' And ie apepared t<> turn away his head. “Mr. Fairbrother! Pardon me, but I fitant to tell you something about that big diamond of yours. You have been 111 and have not been able to read your Liters, so do not know that your wife has had some trouble with that dia mond. People have said that it is not a rial stone, but a. well-executed Imita tion. May T write to her that tliis is a mistake, that" it Is all you have ever i laimed for It—that is, an unusually large diamond, of the first water?" 1 listened In amazement. Surely, this was an insidious way to get at the truth—a woman's way. but who would rnv it was not a wise one, the wisest, perhaps, which could be taken under Hie circumstances? What would his reply be? Would it show that lie was as ig norant of his wife’s death as was gon- mally believed, both by those about him here and those who knew him well in New York? Or Would the question convey nothinsr further to him than the doubt—in itself an insult—of tiie genuine ness of that great stone which had been his pride? A murmur—that was all it could be called—broke from his fever-dried lies and died away in an inarticulate gasp. Then, suddenly, sharply, a cry brute from him. an intelligible cry, and tie heard hint say: “No imitation! no imitation! It was a sun! a glory! No other like it! It lit ‘lie n.r! it blazed, it burned; I see it now.' 1 see—’ ’ There the passion succumbed, the strength 'failed; another murmur, nn- c- her. and the ,great void of night which stretched over—I might almost say un der us—was no more quiet or seemingly impenetrable than Hie silence of that noon-enveloped tent Would he s.-pcak again? I did not think so. Would she even try to make him? 1 diq not think this, either. But I did i o' know the woman. Softly her voice rose again. There was a dominating insistence in Iter tones, gentle as they were; tiie insistence of a realthy mind which seeks to control a weakened one. "You do not know of ans - imitation, then? It. was the real stone you. gave let-. You are sure of it; yStt would be «*••• A A C ••• t *9* 3 ••• A ••••>•••♦©* A *•••*©• O ic-ady to swear to it if—say just yes or i-o,” she finished In gentle urgency. Evidently ho was sinking again into I t consciousness, and she was just hold ing him back long enougn for the neces- tary word. It came slowly and with a dragging intonutlon, but there w>.3 no mistaking the ring of truth with which he spoke. "Yes,” said he. When I heard the doctor's voice and felt a movement in the canvas against which I leaned, I took the warning and stole back hur riedly to my quarters. I was scarcely settled, when the same group of three I Itad before watched silhouetted itself again against the moon light. There was some talk, a mingling and separating of shadows; then the nurse glided hack to her duties and the two men went toward the c-lump of trees where the horse had been tethered. Ten minutes and the doctor was back in his bunk. Was it imagination, or did I feel his hand on my shoulder 'before he finally lay down and composed him self to sleep? 1 can not say; 1 only know that I gave no sign, and that soon all stir ceased in his direction and I was left to enjoy my triumph and to listen with envious interest to the strange and unintelligible sounds which accom panied the descent of the horseman down tiie face of the cliff, and finally to watch with a fascination, which drew me to my knees, tin passage of that sparkling itar of light hanging from his saddle. It crept to and fro across the side of the opposite mountain as he threaded its endless zigzags and finally disap peared over tiie brow into the invisible canyons beyond. With the disappearance of this beacon came lassitude and sleep, through whose hazy atmosphere floated wild sentences from the sick tent, which showed that tiie patient was back again in Nevada, quarreling over the price of a horse which was to carry him beyond the re-ich o’* s"me 11 1ri-’ten’-iv “’-aiaitcl ie. When next morning I came to depart, Hie doctor took me by both hands and looked me straight in the eyes. "You heard,” he said. “How do you know?” I asked. ‘I can tell a satisfied man when I see him,” he growled, throwing down my hands with tiiat same humorous twinkle in his eyes which had encouraged me from the first. I made no answer, but X shall remem ber the lesson. One detail more. When I started on my own descent I found why the leg gings, with which I iiad been provided, were so indispensable. T was not al lowed to ride; indeed, riding down those riteep declivities was impossible. No horse could preserve his balance with a rider on his hack. T slid, so did my horse, and only in the valley beneath did we come together again. VIJJ. ARREST. The success of this interview provoked other attempts on the part of the re porters who now flocked into tiie south west. EYe long particulars began to pour in of Mr. Fairbrother's 'painful journey south, after ids illness set in. The clerk of the hotel in El Moro, where the mine owner's name was found registered at the time of tiie murder, told a story which made very good read ing for those who were more interested in the sufferings and experiences of the millionaire husband of tiie murdered lady than in those of Hie unhappy but com paratively insignificant man upon whom public opinion had cast the odium of her death. It seems that when the first news cante of tiie great crime which had taken place in New York. Mr. Fail-brother was ab sent from tiie hotel on a prospecting tour through the adjacent mountains. Couriers had been sent after him, and it was one of these who finally brought •him into town. He had been found wan dering alone on horseback among the de files of an untraveled region, sick anfl al most incoherent from fever. Jndeed, his condition was such that neither the cour ier nor such others as saw him had the heart to toil him the dreadful news from New York, or even to show him the pa pers. To their great relief, he betrayed no curiosity in them. All lie wanted was a. berth iu tihe first train going south, and this was an easy way for them out of a great responsibility. They listened to his wishes and saw him safely aboard, with such alacrity and with so many pre cautions against his Vicing disturbed tiiat they have never doubted that he left El Moro In total ignorance, not only ot tine circumstances of his great 'bereave ment. but of the bereavement itself. This ignorance, which he appeared to have carried with him to the Flacide, was regarded by those who knew him best as proving the truth of the affirma tion elicited from him in aite pauses his delirium of the genuineness o” stone which had passed from lr to those of ids wife at the ti- separation; and, further do ing in. some private a- hut all insisting upc would 11-3 weeks v a condition to - animation o’ authentic no lor cee ’ de. 1 '-v*. * -s-~ V® ''a mm '',n c»su » tts