hich seemed to creep with snail-like pace along
the dial, when unexpectedly, and a full minute before the minute hand
had reached the stroke of five, Violet caught a movement on her part,
saw the flash of something round and white show for an instant against
the darkness of her cloak, and was about to shriek warning to the
doctor, when the shrill, quick stroke of a clock rang out on the frosty
air, followed by the ping and flash of a pistol.

A sound of shattered glass, followed by a suppressed cry, told the
bystanders that the bullet had struck the mark, but before any one could
move, or they could rid their eyes of the smoke which the wind had blown
into their faces, there came another sound which made their hair stand
on end and sent the blood back in terror to their hearts. Another clock
was striking, which they now perceived was still standing upright on the
stump where Mrs. Zabriskie had placed it.

Whence came the clock, then, which had struck before the time and been
shattered for its pains? One quick look told them. On the ground, ten
paces to the right, lay Zulma Zabriskie, a broken clock at her side, and
in her breast a bullet which was fast sapping the life from her sweet
eyes.

They had to tell him, there was such pleading in her looks; and never
will any of the hearers forget the scream which rang from his lips as
he realized the truth. Breaking from their midst, he rushed forward, and
fell at her feet as if guided by some supernatural instinct.

"Zulma," he shrieked, "what is this? Were not my hands dyed deep enough
in blood that you should make me answerable for your life also?"

Her eyes were closed but she opened them. Looking long and steadily at
his agonized face, she faltered forth:

"It is not you who have killed me; it is your crime. Had you been
innocent of Mr. Hasbrouck's death your bullet would never have found my
heart. Did you think I could survive the proof that you had killed that
good man?"

"I did it unwittingly. I--"

"Hush!" she commanded, with an awful look, which happily he could not
see. "I had another motive. I wished to prove to you, even at the cost
of my life, that I loved you, had always loved you, and not--"

It was now his turn to silence her. His hand crept to her lips, and his
despairing face turned itself blindly towards those about them.

"Go!" he cried; "leave us! Let me take a last farewell of my dying wife,
without listeners or spectators."

Consulting the