ned the bedroom, the
domestics were shocked to find Mr. Grant--to give him the name
he is best known by--seated on a chair, with the handle of his
'cello in his left hand and the bow held in his right, in the
very act of drawing it across the strings. He was dead; and the
extraordinary life-likeness of the pose added greatly to the
tragic nature of the discovery. At present no explanation is
forthcoming, and an inquest will be held. The deceased novelist
was an accomplished performer on the 'cello, and those who knew
him describe him even as a master of that instrument, and
capable of having achieved as great, if not greater, distinction
as a musician than as a novelist. He is believed to have been
just about forty years of age."

It seemed but yesterday that Henry read in the _Weekly Review_ a
paragraph about the identity of Adrian Grant, and now--this! The stabs
of Fate come fast and ruthless to the young man, to rid him of youth's
illusion of immortality. He sees men rise up suddenly into fame, and
dreams that one day he shall do so too. Then a brief year or two glides
by, and the hearse draws up at the door of Fame's latest favourite, and
youth begins to understand that the bright game of life must now be
played with a blinking eye on the end of all things mortal. If he also
understands that the end is in truth the beginning, that "the best is
yet to be," then he may be happy no less. If not, he is booked for
cynicism and things unlovely.

Adrian Grant dead! Fame, fortune his, and but half-way through life.
Dead, and "mysteriously." Henry sat dumb, struck thoughtless with
amazement.

"'Ow d'you like them 'olly'ocks, 'Enry; ain't they tremenjous?"

The voice of his father recalled him, and the good human ring of it was
sweet in his ears.

"Father, a terrible thing has happened. My friend Mr. Grant is dead."

Edward John pursed his mouth to whistle in token of blank surprise, but
the scared look on Henry's face stayed him in the act, and he said
"Well, well!" instead.

"'Ow did it happen? Run over?"

An accident was about the only means of death to people under seventy
that was known in Hampton, if we except consumption.

"Listen to this, father; it's dreadful!"

And Henry re-read the paragraph, turning also to the news columns, where
the information was supplemented by the statement of a servant to the
effect that the novelist had been heard playing his 'ce