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I hunted everywhere, in every pocket. It was gone.

At last I rose and moved along the narrow asphalt path in the falling twilight.

And as I turned into the broader walk, I was aware of a group, a policeman holding a lantern, some gardeners, and a knot of loungers gathered about something,-a dark mass on the ground.

"Found 'em just so," one of the gardeners was saying, "better not touch 'em until the coroner comes."

The policeman shifted his bull's-eye a little; the rays fell on two faces, on two bodies, half supported against a park bench. On the finger of the girl glittered a splendid diamond, set between the fangs of two gold serpents. The man had shot himself; he clasped two wet letters in his hand. The girl's clothing and hair were wringing wet, and her face was the face of a drowned person. "Well, sir," said the policeman, looking at me; "you seem to know these two people-by your looks-"

"I never saw them before," I gasped, and walked on, trembling in every nerve.

For among the folds of her shabby black dress I had noticed the end of a paper,—my sketch that I had missed!

THE MAN AT THE NEXT TABLE.

"Awed and afraid I cross the border-land.

Oh, who am I that I dare enter here

Where the great artists of the world have trod?"

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.

THE MAN AT THE NEXT

TABLE.

"The caricaturist is a freebooter. Public tolerance grants him letters of marque.

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MARMADUKE HUMPHREY.

"Ainsi rien ne se passe, rien de vraiment immortel et d'éternellement doux que dans notre âme."

I.

T was high noon in the city of Antwerp. From slender steeples floated the mellow music of the Flemish bells, and in the spire of the great cathedral across the square the cracked chimes clashed discords until my ears ached.

When the fiend in the cathedral had jerked the last tuneless clang from the chimes, I removed my fingers from my ears and sat down at one of the iron tables in the court. A waiter with his face shaved blue, brought me a bottle of Rhine wine, a tumbler of cracked ice, and a siphon.

"Does Monsieur desire anything else?" he inquired.

"Yes-the head of the cathedral bell-ringer; bring it with vinegar and potatoes," I said, bit

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