the opinion that death must have been almost, if not quite, instantaneous. But such theory did not coincide with the screams that had escaped her. On reviewing the whole of the circumstances, I felt confident that she must have been fully conscious at the time and that those shrieks were shrieks of terror.  She had divined the intention of her enemies.

About the vicinity of the bed I searched for any bottle of medicine that might be there, but in vain.  If she had really been ill previously, as the Tempter had alleged, the medicine prescribed might give me some clue to the nature of her disease.

Upon a chair close by, her bridal veil of Brussels lace was lying crumpled in a heap, while her gown of white satin was hanging upon the door-knob of the handsome wardrobe.  The orange-blossoms diffused their perfume over the room, but to me it was a sickly odor emblematic of the grave.

My wife, the most beautiful woman upon whom my eyes had ever fallen, was lifeless--struck down by the hand of a murderer.

As I bent, looking full into the contracted pupil, I suddenly detected something half concealed in the lace edging of the pillow.  I drew it forth, and found it to be a crumpled letter, which I spread out and read.  It had evidently been treasured there, just as invalids treasure beneath the bolster all the correspondence they receive.

In an angular hand, evidently masculine, was written the simple words, without address or signature, "I have seen La Gioia!" Who, I wondered, was "La Gioia"?  Was it a happy meeting or a disconcerting one?  The announcement was bare enough, without comment and without detail.  Significant, no doubt, it had been received by her and kept secret beneath her pillow.

I started across the room to investigate my dead wife's surroundings and to learn, if possible, by observation, something concerning her life.  A room is often indicative of a woman's character, and always of her habits.  The apartment was, I found, artistic and luxurious, while the few books lying about showed her to be a woman of education, culture, and refinement.  Upon a little side-table, concealed behind a pile of books, I found a small blue bottle which, taking up, I held to the light, and afterwards uncorked and smelt, wondering whether its odor would give me any clue to its composition.  The bottle contained pure chloroform.

Once more I crossed to the bed when, of a sudden, I again felt that strange sensation in my mouth and 

 Prev. P 20/205 next