about to happen to me, my heart feels so heavy, so depressed."

CHAPTER XIII.

IN THE TOILS OF THE CONSPIRATORS.

Lester Armstrong had no sooner stepped to the pavement than he was
accosted by a man who stepped suddenly up to him.

"Mr. Armstrong?" he said, interrogatively, touching his hat
respectfully.

"Yes," responded Lester, "what can I do for you?"

"I am here on a deed of mercy. A friend of mine, an employee of yours,
sir, has met with a serious accident and calls for you repeatedly. I am
a hackman, and I volunteered to come for you and ask you to let me take
you to him. It is not very far. My cab stands right here."

"I will go to the poor fellow, certainly," responded Lester, hurrying to
the vehicle in question and hastily entering it.

In a moment the driver had mounted the box and was off like the wind. It
did not occur to Lester until he was well under way that he had not
thought to inquire who the injured man was.

As the cab rolled swiftly along over the crowded thoroughfare, Lester
leaned back and gave himself up to his own thoughts.

Wealth had come to him, and with it honors had crowded thick and fast
upon him. The world of society held out its arms eagerly to him. Lovely
young girls, matrons of the house, offered their congratulations to him
with the most bewitching of smiles, and mothers with marriageable
daughters from all over the city opened an account with the great dry
goods house, whose sole owner was a young and handsome bachelor.

But for all this there seemed to be something sadly missing in his life,
a want which he could hardly define, and it seemed to take the shape of
something which he was striving to remember, but could not.

Only that morning he had been talking with some one in the office about
it, and had been laughingly informed that there was a method that could
bring back to his memory that which he desired so ardently to recollect.
"If you will tell me how to unravel this tangle that is in my brain, you
will have my everlasting gratitude," declared Lester, earnestly.

"It takes people with nerves of steel to accomplish it. A person who is
nervous to the slightest degree would not dare to try it, for fear of
turning suddenly insane from the terrible mental struggle. Do you still
wish to know what it is?"

"Yes," responded Lester, "and I can use my judgment whether I dare try
it or not."

"Very good," replied the gentleman, "then here it is: Counting five