lowery Empire. Let me try the newspapers."

It was in the height of the English war with China. On the
seventh column of the paper our hero found a proclamation signed
by the imperial commissioners, Lin, Lou, Lun, and Li.

"Here goes for Li," he said to himself. "He is likely to be the
youngest."

The clock began to strike, announcing the hour. Felix placed
himself solemnly before the mirror, and said aloud, in a
grave tone: "If the death of Mandarin Li will make me rich
and powerful, whatever may come of it, I vote for the death of
Mandarin Li." He lifted his finger--at that instant the porcelain
figure rocked on its base, and fell in fragments at Felix's feet.
The glass reflected his startled face. He thrilled for an instant
with superstitious terror, but recollecting that his finger had
touched the fragile figure, he accounted for it as an accident,
and went to bed and to such repose as a debtor can enjoy with an
execution hanging over his head.

Masks and dominos made the street merry under his window. The
opera ball was unusually brilliant, experts said, and nothing
made the Parisians aware that on the night of January 12th, 1840,
Felix d'Aubremel had passed sentence of death on Chinaman Li, son
of Mung, son of Tseu, a literate mandarin of the 114th class.

Nine months later Felix d'Aubremel was living in furnished
lodgings in an alley off the Rue St. Pierre, and living by
borrowing. The gentlemanly sceptic owed his landlady a good deal
of money; his clothes were aged past wearing, and his tailor
had long ago broken off all relations with him. The Marquis
d'Aubremel was within a hairsbreadth of that utterly crushed
state that ends in madness, or in suicide--which is only a
variety of madness.

One morning while sitting in the glass cage that leads to the
staircase of every lodging-house, waiting to beg another respite
from his landlady, he took up a newspaper, and the following
notice was lucky enough to catch his attention.

"Chiusang, 12th January, 1840. Hostilities have broken out
between England and the Celestial Empire. The sudden and
inexplicable death of Mandarin Li, the only member of the council
who opposed the violent and warlike projects of Lin, led to
unfortunate events. At the first attack the Chinese fled, with
the basest want of pluck, but in their retreat they murdered
several English merchants, and among them an old resident,
Richard Maiden, who leaves an estate of half a million sterlin