the stage--so far as I can
understand the sketch of it. The Doctor is upstairs, innocently
writing his certificate of my Lord's decease, by the dead Courier's
bedside. Down in the vaults, the Baron stands by the corpse of the
poisoned lord, preparing the strong chemical acids which are to reduce
it to a heap of ashes--Surely, it is not worth while to trouble
ourselves with deciphering such melodramatic horrors as these? Let us
get on! let us get on!'

He turned the leaves again; attempting vainly to discover the meaning
of the confused scenes that followed. On the last page but one, he
found the last intelligible sentences.

'The Third Act seems to be divided,' he said, 'into two Parts or
Tableaux. I think I can read the writing at the beginning of the
Second Part. The Baron and the Countess open the scene. The Baron's
hands are mysteriously concealed by gloves. He has reduced the body to
ashes by his own system of cremation, with the exception of the head--'

Henry interrupted his brother there. 'Don't read any more!' he
exclaimed.

'Let us do the Countess justice,' Lord Montbarry persisted. 'There are
not half a dozen lines more that I can make out! The accidental
breaking of his jar of acid has burnt the Baron's hands severely. He
is still unable to proceed to the destruction of the head--and the
Countess is woman enough (with all her wickedness) to shrink from
attempting to take his place--when the first news is received of the
coming arrival of the commission of inquiry despatched by the insurance
offices. The Baron feels no alarm. Inquire as the commission may, it
is the natural death of the Courier (in my Lord's character) that they
are blindly investigating. The head not being destroyed, the obvious
alternative is to hide it--and the Baron is equal to the occasion. His
studies in the old library have informed him of a safe place of
concealment in the palace. The Countess may recoil from handling the
acids and watching the process of cremation; but she can surely
sprinkle a little disinfecting powder--'

'No more!' Henry reiterated. 'No more!'

'There is no more that can be read, my dear fellow. The last page
looks like sheer delirium. She may well have told you that her
invention had failed her!'

'Face the truth honestly, Stephen, and say her memory.'

Lord Montbarry rose from the table at which he had been sitting, and
looked at his brother with pitying eyes.

'Your nerves are out of order, Henry,