pocket soon went where so many dollars of my--yes, even your humble earnings have gone before--in the coffers of the rum-shop.

The liquor I drank seemed to fire my brain as it had never been fired before. I remember that I went to that place around the corner--the place that you and Doctor Gardiner saw them throw me out of that night you thought they had crippled me for life.

The man who keeps the place saw me coming in, and made a dash at me. Then a terrible fight took place between us, and a crowd gathered, foremost among whom I dimly saw the face of Jasper Wilde outlined amidst the jeering throng.

To hasten the telling of an unpleasant tale, I will say he ejected me, the while hurling the most insulting epithets at me. Then he spoke of you, Bernardine, and--and turning upon him with the ferocity of an enraged lion, I swore that I would kill him on sight.

'Beware! take care,' laughed Jasper Wilde, turning to my enemy; 'the old basket-maker always keeps his word. You are in danger, my boy.'

At this, the crowd jeered. I hurried away. I never remembered how far I walked to still the throbbing of my heart and cool the fever in my veins.

At length I turned my steps toward home. How far I had traversed in the darkness I did not take note of; but as I was hurrying along, I heard a loud cry for help. I ran around the corner from which it seemed to proceed, and then I fell headlong across the body of a man lying prone upon the pavement.

I drew a box of matches from my pocket, and hastily struck one. Yes, it was a man dying with a wound in his breast, made from a clasp-knife, which still stuck in it.

In horror I snatched the knife away; and as I did so, the blood from the wound spurted up into my face and covered my clothes. In that instant I made the awful discovery that the knife was my own. I must have lost it from my pocket during my encounter with my enemy, who kept the wine-room.

By the flickering light of the half-burned match, which I held down to the man's face, I saw--oh, God! how shall I tell it?--I saw that the man who had been murdered with my knife was the man whom I had sworn before the crowd I would kill on sight.

As I made this startling discovery, a man laid a heavy hand on my shoulder, and Jasper Wilde's voice, with a demoniac ring, cried in my horrified ears:

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