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ITEARST’S SI XT)AV AMERICAN, ATLANTA. HA., SUNDAY, DECEMBER 21. 1912. den re as has been brought before us during this Inquiry. If your wife committed suicide, or if the entrance of the point of a hatpin into spine was effected by accident, how comes the head of the pin to have been found so many fee: away from her and in such a place as the parlor register?” ••it may have flown there when it broke, or. what is much more probable, been kicked there by some of the many people who passed in anu out of the room between the time of her death and that of its discovery." “But the register was found closed.” urged the Coroner. ‘‘Was it not, Mr. Gryce?” That person thus appealed to rose for an in stant. “It was,” said he, and deliberately sat down again. The face of the witness, which had been singularly free from expression since his last vehement outbreak, clouded over for an Instant and his eye fell as he felt himself engaged in an unequal struggle. But he recovered his courage speedily, and quietly observed: “The register may have been closed by a passing foot I have known of stranger coinci dences than that" "Mr. Van Bumam." asked the Coroner, as If weary of subterfuge® and argument, "hare rou considered the effect which this highly oontra- dictory evidence of yours Is likely to have on your reputation?” “I have.”-" “And are you ready to accept the conse quences?” “If any especial consequences follow, I must accept them, sir.” “When did you lose the keys which you say you have not now in your possession? This morning you asserted that you did not know; but perhaps this afternoon you may like to modify that statement.” j “I lost them after I left my wife shut up In my father’s house.” “Soon?” “But it was within an hour after leaving the house?” “Yes.” “Very soon.” “How V>on?” “Within an hour. I should Judge." “How do you know it wag so soon?" ”1 missed them at once." “Where were you when you missed them?" “1 don’t know; somewhere. I was walking the streets, as I have said. I don’t remember just where I was when I thrust my hands Into my pocket and found the keys gone." “You do not?" “No.” “Very good; the keys have been found." The witness started, started so violently that his teeth came together with a click loud enough to be heard over the whole room. “Have they?” said he, with an effort at non chalance, which, however, failed to deceive any one who noticed his change of color. “You can tell me. then, w’here t lost them.” “They were found,” said the Coroner "In their* usual place above your brother's desk in Duane street.” “Oh!” murmured the witness, utterly taken aback or appearing so. “I can not account for their being found in the office. I was so sure 1 dropped them in the street.” “I did not think you could account for it,” quietly observed the Coroner. And without an other word he dismissed the witness, who stag gered to a seat as remote as possible from the one where he had previously been sitting be tween his father and brother. CHAPTER XIII. A Reluctant Witness. A PAUSE of decided duration now followed, an exasperating pause which tried even me, much as 1 pride myself upon my patience. There seemed to be some hitch In regard to the next witness. The Coroner sent Mr. Gryce into the neighboring room more than once, and final ly. when the general uneasiness seemed on the point of expressing itself by a loud murmur, a gentleman stepped forth, whose appearance, instead of allaying the excitement, renewed it in quite an unprecedented and remarkable way. I did not know the person thus Introduced. He was a handsome man, a very handsome man, if the truth must be told, but it did not seem to be this fact which made half the people there crane their heads to catch a glimpse of him. Something else, something entirely dis connected with his appearance there as a wit ness, appeared to hold the people enthralled and awaken a subdued enthusiasm which showed itself not only in smiles, hut in whispers and significant* nudges, chiefly among the women, though I noticed that the jifrymen stared when somebody obliged them with the name of this new witness. At last It reached my ears, and though it awakened in me also a decided curi osity, I restrained all expression of it, being unwilling to add one jot to this ridiculous dis play of human weakness. Randolph Stone, as the Intended husband of the rich Miss Althorpe, was a figure of some importance in the city, and while I was very glad of thlg opportunity of seeing him, I did not propose to lose my head or forget in the marked interest his person invoked the very serious cause which had brought him before us. And yet I suppose no one in the room observed his figure more minutely. He was elegantly made and possessed, as I have said, a face of peculiar beauty. But. these were not his only claims to admiration. He was a man of undoubted intelligence and great dis tinction of manner. The intelligence did not surprise me. knowing, as I did. how he had raised himself to his present enviable position in society in the short space of five years. But the perfection of his manner astonished me. though how I could have expected anything less in a man honored by Miss Althorpe’s regard I can not say. He had that clear pallor of com plexion which in a smooth-shaven face is so impressive, and his voice w T hen he spoke had that music in it which only comes from great cultivation and a deliberate intent to please. He wag a friend .of Howard's, that I saw by the short look that passed between them when he first entered the room; but that it was not as a friend he stood there was apparent from the state of amazement with which the former rec ognized him, as well as from the regret to be seen underlying the polished manner of tlie witness himself. Though perfectly self-pos sessed and perfectly respectful, he showed by every means possible the pain he felt in adding one featherweight to the evidence against a man with whom he was on terms of more or less intimacy. But let me give his testimony. Having ac knowledged that he knew the Van Bumam fam ily well, and Howard in particular, he went on to state that on the night of the 17th ho had been detained at his office by business of a more than usual pressing nature, and finding that he could expect no rest fdr that night, humored himself by getting off the cars at Twenty-first street instead of proceeding on to Thirty-third street, where his apartments were. The smile which these words caused (Miss Althorpe lived in Twenty-first street) woke no corresponding light on -his face. Indeed, he frowned at it, as if he felt that the gravity of the situation admitted of nothing frivolous or humorsome. And this feeling was shared hv Howard, for he started when the witness raen- Xioned Twenty-first street, and cast him a hag gard look of dismay which happily no one saw but myself, for everyone else was concerned with the witness. Or should I except Mr. Gryce? “I had, of course, no intentions beyond a short stroll through this street previous to returning to my home.” continued the witness, gravely, “and am sorry to be obliged to mention this freak of mine, but find it necessary in order to account for my presence there at so unusual an hour.” (To Be Continued Next Sunday.) Copyright, 1897. by Anna K. Rohlfs, Publishers G. P. Putnam’s Sons, New York and London, excuse she gave me for the precautions she took, though I think the delight she experienced in anything romantic and unusual had as much ?o do with it as anything else. She enjoyed the game she was playing, and wished to make as much of it as possible.” “Were her own garments much richer than those she ordered from Altman’s?” “Undoubtedly. Mrs. Van Bumam wore noth ing made by American seamstresses. Fine clothes was her weakness.” “I see, 1 see; but why such an attempt on your part to keep yourself in the background? Why let your wife write your assumed names in the hotel register, for instance, instead of doing it yourself?*' ‘ It was easier for her; I know no other rea son. She did not mind putting down the name Pope. I did.” It was an ungracious reflection upon his wife, and he seemed tci feel it so; for he almost im mediately added: "A man will sometimes lend himself to a scheme of which the details are obnoxious. It was so In this rase, but she was too interested In her plans to be affected by so small a matter a* this.” This explained more than one mysterious ac tion on the part of this pair while they were at the Hotel D . The Coroner evidently con sidered it In this light, for he dwelt but little longer on this phase of the case, passing at once to a fact concerning which curiosity had hith erto been roused without receiving any satisfac tion. "Tn leaving the hotel,” said he. "you and your wife were seen carrying certain packages, which were missing from your arms w’hen yon alighted at Mr. Van Burnam’s house. What was in those packages, and where did you dispose of them before you entered the second car riage ?” “My wife’s clothes were in them.” said he. “and we dropped them somewhere on Twenty- seventh street near Third avenue, just as we saw an old woman coming along the sidewalk. We* knew that she would stop and pick them up, and she did, for we.slid into a dark shadow' made by a projecting stoop and watched her. Is that too simple a method for diposing of cer tain encumbering bundles, to be believed, sir?” “That is for the jury to decide,” answered the Coroner, stiffly. “Mr. Van Burnam*,” said he. "you showed a great deal of feeling this morning at being con fronted with your wife’s hat. Why wag this, and why did von wait till you saw this evidence of her presence on the scene of death to ac knowledge the facts you have been good enough to give us this afternoon?” “If I had a lawyer by my side, you would not ask me that question, or if you did, I would not be allowed to answer it. But I have no lawyer here, and so I will say that I was greatly shocked by the catastrophe which had happened to my wife, and under the stress of my first overpowering emotions had the impulse to hide the fact that the victim of so dreadful a mis chance was my w’ife. I thought that if no con nection was found between myself and this dea l woman, T would stand in no danger of the sus picion which must cling to the man who can e into the house with her. But. like most first impulses, it was a foolish one and gave way un der the strain of investigation. I, however, per sisted in it as long as possible, partially because my disposition Is an obstinate one, and partially because I hated to acknowledge myself a fool; hut when I saw the hat, and recognized it as an indisputable proof of her presence in the Van Burnam house that night, my confidence in the attempt 1 was making broke dowm all at.once. I could deny her shape, her hands, and even the scar, which she might have had in common with other women, but I could not deny her hat. Too many persons had seen her wear it.” His next answer, howeyer, opened up one dark place Into which I had been peering for some time without an enlightenment. It was in reply to the following query: “All this,” said the Coroner, “is very interest ing; but what explanation have you to give for taking your wife into your father's empty house at an hour so late, and then leaving her to spend the best part of the dark night alone?” “None,” said he, "that will strike you as sen sible and judicious. But we were not sensible that night, neither were we judicious, or I would not be standing here trying to explain what is not explainable by any of the ordinary rules of conduct. She was set upon being the first to greet my father on his entrance into his own home, and her first plan had been to do so In her own proper character as my wife, but after ward the freak took her, as I have said, to per sonify the housekeeper whom my father had cabled ug to have in waiting at his house—a cablegram which had reached us too late for any practical use, and which we had therefore ig nored—and fearing he might come early in the morning, before she could be on hand to make the favorable impression she intended, ' she wished to be left in the house that night; and l humored her. I did not foresee the suffering that my departure might cause her, or the fears that were likely to spring from her lonely posi tion in so large and empty a dwelling.” "And why,” persisted the Coroner, edging forward in his interest and so allowing me to catch a glimpse of Mr. Gryce’s face as he, too, leaned forward In his anxiety to hear every word that fell from this remarkable witness— “why did you speak of her fear? What reason have you to think she suffered apprehension after your departure?” “Why?” echoed the witness, as if astounded by the other’s lack of perspicacity. “Did she not kill herself in a moment of terror and dis couragement? Leaving her, as I did, in a con dition of health and good spirits, can you expect me to attribute her death to any other cause than a sudden attack of frenzy caused by her terror?” “Ah!” exclaimed the Coroner, in a suspicious tone, which no doubt voiced the feelings of most people present, "then you think your wife committed suicide?” “Most certainly," replied the witness, avoid ing but two pair of eyes in the whole crowd, those of his father and brother. “With a hatpin,” continued the Coroner, let ting his hitherto scarcely suppressed irony be come fully visible In voice and manner, "thrust into the back of her neck at a spot young ladies surely would have but little reason to know’ is peculiarly fatal! Suicide! when she was found crushed under a pile of bric-a-brac, which was thrown down or fell upjon her hours after she received the fatal thrust!” “I do not know how* else she could have died.” persisted the witness, calmly, "unless she opened the door to some burglar. And what burglar would kill a woman in that way. when he could pound her with his fists? No; she was frenzied and stabebd herself In desperation; or the thing was done by accident, God knows how! And as for the testimony of the experts—we all know how easily the wisest of them can be mistaken, even in matters of as serious import as these. If a/1 the experts in the w’orld”—here his voice rose* and his nostrils dilated till his aspect was actually commanding and impressed us all like a sudden transformation—“if all the experts in the world were to swear that those shelves were thrown upon her after she had lain there for four hours dead, I would not believe them. Ap pearances or no appearances, blood or no blood. T here declare that she pulled that cabi net over in her death struggle; and upon the truth of this fact I am ready to rest my honor as a man and my integrity as her husband.” An uproar immediately followed, amid which could be heard cries of “He lies!” “He’s a fool!” The attitude taken by the witness was so unexpected that the most callous person present could not fail to be affected by it. But curiosity is as potent a passion as surprise, and In a few minutes all was still again and every body intent to hear how the Coroner would an swer these asseverations. “I have heard of a blind man denying the ex istence of light,” said the Coroner, “hut never before of a sensible being like yourself urging th© most untenable theories in face of such evi- SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING CHAPTERS. T HE handanma raaidanra of Ril#» .Van Burnam in (iramarry Park adjoina that of Miaa Amalia Buttarworth. a lady of lndnprndrnt moans and spirit, who tails tha story. At midnight, psaring through har Miriams, Miss Buttarworth saas a rat. driva up with a young tnan and woman, who antar tha Van Htirmuii housa Tan minutaa later sha upas thn >mini; man laai .* tha housn alona and walk rapidly away. hnnwing ilia housa to ha raaant. owing to tha abaence of Nilas Van Burnam in Europe, thia midnight incident automate. Mias Butteawnrth Next morning she is present whan a policeman snmmoned hv Mrs Boppart. a scrub woman diaeose" th# dead body of a young woman lying under a heaii piece of fallen fumitnre. Tteteetivp (iryee. itimmonad from Police Headqum tera. arrives with a physietan Mias Buttarworth tails of ths midnight tnrtdant—ths young woman a eonipamnn seemed to resemble one of the Van Human! anna Franklin or Howard. the latter underatood to ha estranged from hll family, owing to an iinanitahle mar riafa and apending the autumn with his bride in i on naatient. It wat Franklin Van Burnam who apant Ins nlfhls st T,ong Branah—wllo had sent Mrs, Bopprert to make tha honae ready for hia fatv ?■ and aiater. arrl, inf to-day A clock whleh had ' t with the eabl nat under whirl) tha daad girl I a y I i-.ppad at threa minutes to flee. Another effort was not out of place, however and the Coroner, summnnlng up tome of the pompous severity he found useful at times, asked the witness if his attention had been drawn to the dead woman's hands. He acknowledged that It had. "The physl clan who made the autopsy urged me to look at them, and I did; they were certainly very like my wife’s.” "Only like." “I can not say that they were my wife's Do you want me to perjure myself?" "A man Bhould know his wife's hsnds as well ns he knows her face." "Very likely.” "And you are ready to swear these were not the hands of your wife?*' "I am ready to swear T did not so consider them." "And that la all?" "That Is all.” The Coroner frowned and cast a fiance at the Jury. They needed prodding now and then, and tills Is the way lie prodded them. As soon as thev gave signs of recognizing tha hint he gave them, he turned back, and renewed his ex amination in these words: Mr Van Burnam, did your brother at your request hand you the keys of your father's houso on the morning of the day on which this tragedy occurred?" "He did " Have you those keys now?” I have not." "What have you done with litem? Did yoti return them to your brother?" "No, I see w here your Inquiries are tending, and I do t ot suppose you will believe toy simple word; but 1 lost the keys on the day 1 received them; I hat Is why " ••Well, you may continue, Mr. Van Burnam " "I have no more to say; my sentence was not worth completing " Phe murmur whleh rose about him seemed to show dissatisfaction; but he remained ltiper- turbale, or rather like a mall who did not hear. 1 began to feel a most painful Interest tn the Inquiry. anil dreaded, while 1 anxiously antlel- l... tod." his further examination. You Jest the keys; may T ask when and where?" "That Ido not know, tbev were missing when I searched for them; missing from my pocket, 3 mean." "Ah! and when did you search for them ?" "The next day- after I had heard—of - of whHt had taken place In ray father's house." The hesitations were those of a man weighing his reply. They told on the Jury, as all such hesitations do; and made the Coroner lose an atom of respect he had hitherto shown this easy-going witness. "And you do not know what became of them?" "No." "Or into whose hands they fell?" "No, probably Into the hands of the wretch” , To the astonishment of everybody he w on the verge of vehemence; but be coming sensible of it, was almost shock- ""Ffnd the murderer of this poor girl." said h«. x tth a quiet air that was more thrilling than any display of passion, "and ask him where he got the keys with which he opened the door of my father's house at midnight." ' Was this a challenge, or Just the natur al outburst of »n Innocent man? Neither the Jury nor the Coronet; seemed to know, hut the former looked startled and the latter nonplused. But Mr Gryce. who had moved now Into view, smoothed the head of his cane with quite S loving touch and did not seem at this moment to feel Us Inequalities objectionable. ■We will certainly try to follow vour advice, the Coroner assused him. "Meanwhile we must nsk how many rings your wife Is In the habit of wearing?" "Five. Two on the left hand and three on the right.” "Do you know these rings — "I do." ' Belter than you know heT hands?" "As well, sir." Were they on her hsnds when you parted from her In Haddam?" "They were." Did she always wear them”" Almost always Indeed. I do not ever re member seeing her take off more than one of them." "Which one"' "The ruby with the diamond setting •■Had the dead girl any rings on when you saw her?" "No. sir." "Did you look to see "I think 1 did In the covery." "And you saw none "And from this you vour wife?" "From this and other things" "Vet you must have sein that the woman was In the habit of w earing rings, even If they were not on her hands at that moment?" “Why, sir? What should 1 know apout her habits?" "Is not that a ring I see now on your little linger?" "It is; ray seal ring which I always wear “Will you pull It off?" "Pull It off? "If you please; It is a simple test l am re quiring of you. sir." The witness looked astonished, but pulled off the ring at once • Here It is," said he "Thank you, but I do not want it. I merely want you to look at your finger " The‘witness complied, ev idently more non plused than disturbed by this command. "Do you see any difference between that fin aer and the one next it?” "Yes; there Is a mark about my little Anger showing where the ring has pressed ' "Very good: there were such murks on the fingers of the dead girl. who. as you say, hail mi rings on I saw them, and perhaps you did yourself.” “I did not; I did not look closely enough "They were on the little finger of tile rig I hand, on the marriage finger of the let- and on the forefinger of the same. On which fingers did your wife wear ring-?” "On those same fingers, sir; hut 1 will i >i in cept till* fact as proving her identity with the dy is clothfd in a now, bl nt - lying crushed under ipvealing hut one prick f tn Van Burnam arrives » ystery in their muttered « Butterworth also see* rr Hoppert. the scrub wofin Hut ter worth house. Kroi -.f the dead *ir t»h#* sees Mown Khastlv white. Tho dead woman's features be recognition and her clothing being; i Houard denies that nh« wan his wife, finds the head of the broken hntfi victim was stabbed to (hath. De another bat in the house much in iff crushed out of w and unfamiliar. Mias Hut ter-worth i with which the < tive Gryce finds expensive than the one worn by the murdered woman. At the inquest the landlady of the Howard Van iiuinaius at Hnddani (•onn., testifies that the young wife left alone for New York, in on attempt to win tne favor of her father in law fin his arrivnl from Kurope. Department store employees Identify the xmw jrr>wn and hat as those delivered to a rnvaterioua counle, ‘‘Mr. and Mrs. Pope,’’ at a Broadway note). Howard resists all attempts to make him identify tliv* body as his wife's. deceased. Most women do weir rings, nnd on those very finder?.” The Coroner was nettled, but ho was not dis couraged. He exchanged looks with !Vlr. Gryce, hut nothin*? further passed between them and we were left to conjecture what this Interchange of glances meant. The witness, who did not f*eem to be affected either by the character of thin examination or by the conjectures to which it gave rise, pre served his sang-froid, and eyed the Coroner as he might any other questioner, with suitable re apect, but with no fear and but little impatience. Nnd yet he must have known the horrible sus picion darkening the minds of many people present, and suspected, even if against his will, that this examination, significant op it was, was tout the forerunner of another and yet more serious one. “You are very determined.” remarked the Coroner in beginning again, “not to accept the very substantial proofs presented you of the Identity between the object of this inquiry and your missing wife. But we are not yet ready to give up the struggle,*and ho I must ask if you have heard the description given by Miss Fer guson of the manner in which your wife was dressed on leaving Haddam?” • I have.” “Was it a correct account? Did she wear a black and w’hite plaid silk and a hat trimmed with various colored rib bons and flowers?” “Who did." “Do you remem ber the hat? Were you with her when she bought it, or did you ever have was killed there was my wife.” And he started away with a wild air toward the door. Where arc you going?” asked the Coroner, quietly, while an officer stepped softly before him. and his brother compassionately drew him back by the arm. I am going to take her from that horrible place; she is my wife. Father, you would not wish her to remain in that spot for another moment, would you, while we have a house we call our own?” Mr. Van Burnam the senior, who had shrunk ns far from sight as possible through these painful demonstrations, rose up at these words from his agonized son, and making him an en couraging gesture, wa'ked hastily out of tlie* r< »m, seeing which, the young man became • Mruer, and though he did not cease to shudder, tried To restrain hi.- first grief, which to those who looked closely at him was evidently very sincere. "\ would not believe It was she,” he cried, in total disregard of the presence he was in, “I would not believe it; but now ” A certain pitiful gesture finished the sentence, and neither Coroner nor Jury seemed to know Just how to proceed, the conduct of the young man being so markedly different from what they had ex pected. After a short pause, painful enough to all concerned, the Coroner, perceiving that very little could be done with the witness under thn circumstances, adjourned the sitting till after noon. CHAPTER XII. tier ions A <1 m ission. 1 WENT at once to a restaurant. I ate be- * cause It Wiis time to eat and because any occupation was welcome that would pass away the hours of waiting I was troubled, and 1 did not know what to make of myself. I was no friend of the Van Burnams; I did not like them, and certainly had never approved of any Of them; but Mr Franklin, and yet 1 found myself altogether disturbed over the morning's developments, Howard’s emotion having appealed to me in spite of my preju dices. l could not but think ill of him, his Yet he did not fail in a decent show of respect; perhaps because he did feel some sympathy for the witness* unhappy father and brother. “You then acknowledge the victim to have been your wife?” “I do.” “It is a point gained, and I compliment the jury upon it. We can now proceed to settle, if possible, the Identity of the person who accom panied Mrs. Van Burnam into your father's house." “Walt,” cried Mr. Van Burnam, with a -orange air. “1 acknowledge I was that person. - ’ it was coolly, almost fiercely said, but it was an admission that well-night created a hubbub Even the Coroner seemed moved, and cast a glance at Mr. Gryce. which showed his surprise to be greater than his discretion. “You acknowledge,” he began but thp wit ness did not let him finish. “I acknowledge that I was the person who accompanied her into that empty house; but 1 do not acknowledge that I killed her She was alive and well when I left her, difficult as it is for me to prove it. It wu the realizatfon of this difficulty w’hich made me perjure myself this morning.” “So,” murmured the Coroner, with another glance at Mr. Gryce, “you acknowledge that , you perjured yourself. Will the room be quiet!’’ But the lull came slowly. The contrast be tween the appearance of this elegant young man and the significant admissions he had just made (admissions which to three-quarters of the persons theTe meant more, much more than he acknowledged), was certainly such as to provoke interest of the deepest kind. I felt like giving rein to my own feelings, and was not surprised at the patience showm by the Coroner. But order was restored at last, and the inquiry- proceeded. “We are then to consider the testimony given by you this morning as null and void?" “Yes, so far as it contradicts what I have just stated.” “Ah, then you will, no doubt, be willing to give us your evidence again?” Where ure you goingnaked the Coroner,’quietly, while an officer stepped softly before him, and his brother compas sionately drew him back by the arm. your attention drawn to it in any particular way?” 1 remember the hat.” is this it, Mr. Van Burnam?” ! was watching Howard, and the start he gave was so pronounced and the emotion he dis played was in such violent contrast to the self- possession he had maintained up to this point, that 1 was held spellbound by the shock I re ceived. and forebore to look at the object which the Coroner had suddenly held up for inspec tion. But when I did turn my head toward it. I recognized at once the multi-colored hat which Mr. Gryce had brought in from the third room of Mr Van Burnam’s house on the evening 1 was there, and realized almost in the same breath that, great as tills mystery had hitherto seemed, it was likely to prove yet greater be fore its proper elucidation was arrived at. “Was that found in my father’s house? Where where was that hat found?” stammered the witness, so far forgetting himself as to point toward the object in question. “It was found by Mrs. Gryce in a closet olf vour father’s dining room, a short time after the dead girl was carried out.’’ “I don’t believe it.” vociferated the young ma^n, paling with something more than anger, and shaking from head to foot. Shall l put Mr. Gryce on his oath again?” asked the Coroner, mildly. The young man stared; evidently these words failed to reach his understanding “16 it your wife’s lmt?” persisted the Cor oner with very little mercy. “Do you recognize it for tlie one in which she left Haddam?” "Would to God I did not!” burst in vehement distress from the witness who at the next mo ment broke down altogether anti looked about for the support of his brother’s arm. Franklin came forward, and tin* two brothers stood for a moment in the face of the whole surging mass of curiosity-mongers before them, arm in arm. hut with very different expressions •m their two proud faces. Howard was the first to speak. “Tf thut was found in the parlor of my fa ther's house,” he cried, “then tho woman who conduct not being such as 1 could honestly commend. But 1 found myself more ready to listen to the involuntary pleadings of my own heart in his behalf than I had been prior to his testimony and its somewhat startling termina tion. But they were not through with him yet. and ifter the longest three hours l ever passed, we were again convened before the Coroner. I saw Howard as soon as anybody did. He came in. arm. in arm, as before, with his faith ful brother, and sat down In a retired corner behind tin* Coroner. But he was sobn called forward. His face, when the light fell on it. was start ling \to most of us. It was as much changed is if years, instead of hours, lmd elapsed since last we saw it No longer reckless in its ex pression. nor easy, nor politely patient, it showed in its every lineament that he had not <*nly passed through a hurricane of passion, but that the bitterness, which had been its worst feature, had not. passed with the storm, but had settled into the core of his nature, disturbing its equilibrium forever. lie had been iron in his impassibility at that time, but he was steel now, and steel which had been through the fiercest of fires. The opening question of the Coroner showed by what experience these fires had been kindled. “Mr. Van Burnam. I have been told that vou have visited the morgue in the interim which has elapsed since 1 last questioned you. Is that true?” "It is.” “Did you. in the opportunity thus afforded, examine the remains of the woman whose death we are investigating attentively enough to enable you to say now w hether they are those of your missing wife?" I have. The body is that of Louise Van Bur nam; 1 t rave your pardon and that of the jury for my former obstinacy in refusing to recog nize it. 1 thought myself fully justified in the stand I took. I see now that I was not.” The Coroner made no answer. There was no sympathy between him and this young man. “Certainly, if you will be so kind as to ques tion me.” “Very well; where did your wife and yourself first meet after your arrival in New York?” “Ip the street near my office. She was com ing to see me. but I prevailed upon her to go uptown.” “What time was this?” “After 10 and before noon. I can not give the exact'hour.” “And where did you go?” “To a hotel on Broadway; you have already iteard of our visit there.” “You are. then, the Mr. James Pope, whose wife registered in the books of the Hotel D on the 17th of this mont**?” “I have said so.” “And may I ask for wnat purpose you used this disguise, and allowed your w’ife to sign a wrong name?” “To satisfy a freak. She considered it the best way of covering up a scheme she had formed; which was to awaken the interest of my father under the name and appearance of a stranger, and not to inform him who she was till he had given some evidence of partiality for her.” “Ah. but for such an end was It necessary for her to assume a strange name before she saw your father, and for you both to conduct 'ourselves in the mysterious way you did all that day and evening'”* “I do not know. She thought so. and I hu mored her. I was tired of working against her, and was willing she should have her own way for a time.” “.And for this reason you let her fit herself out with clothes down to her very undergar ments?” “Yes: strange as it may seem. 1 was just such a fool. 1 had entered into her scheme, and the means she took to change' her personality only amused me. She wished to present herself to my father as a girl obliged to work for her living, and was too slire wd to excite suspicior in the minds of any of the family by any undue luxury In her apparel. At least that was the