Did he suffer much
afterwards? How long did he live? A week--perhaps a month?"

"He is alive yet."

"What!" exclaimed Entrefort, startled.

"He is, indeed, and is in this city."

"Incredible!"

"It is true; you shall see him."

"But tell me about him now!" cried the surgeon, his eager eyes
glittering with the peculiar light which I had seen in them on the
night of the operation. "Has he regularly taken the medicine which I
prescribed?"

"He has. Well, the change in him, from what he was before the
operation, is shocking. Imagine a young dare-devil of twenty-two, who
had no greater fear of danger or death than of a cold, now a cringing,
cowering fellow; apparently an old man, nursing his life with pitiful
tenderness, fearful that at any moment something may happen to break
the hold of his aorta-walls on the stiletto-blade; a confirmed
hypochondriac, peevish, melancholic, unhappy in the extreme. He keeps
himself confined as closely as possible, avoiding all excitement and
exercise, and even reads nothing exciting. The constant danger has worn
out the last shred of his manhood and left him a pitiful wreck. Can
nothing be done for him?"

"Possibly. But has he consulted no physician?"

"None whatever; he has been afraid that he might learn the worst."

"Let us find him at once. Ah, here comes my wife to meet me! She
arrived by the other steamer."

I recognized her immediately and was overcome with astonishment.

"Charming woman," said Entrefort; "you'll like her. We were married
three years ago at Bombay. She belongs to a noble Italian family and
has travelled a great deal."

He introduced us. To my unspeakable relief she remembered neither my
name nor my face. I must have appeared odd to her, but it was
impossible for me to be perfectly unconcerned. We went to Arnold's
rooms, I with much dread. I left her in the reception-room and took
Entrefort within. Arnold was too greatly absorbed in his own troubles
to be dangerously excited by meeting Entrefort, whom he greeted with
indifferent hospitality.

"But I heard a woman's voice," he said. "It sounds----" He checked
himself, and before I could intercept him he had gone to the
reception-room; and there he stood face to face with the beautiful
adventuress,--none other than Entrefort's wife now,--who, wickedly
desperate, had driven a stiletto into Arnold's vitals in a hotel four
years before because he had refused to marry her. They recognized each
other insta