His landlady, with her Arabian
Nightlike romances, was a source of great amusement to him, and he felt
considerably cheered by the odd turn her humour had taken this morning.
After a time, however, his laughter ceased, and his troubles came
crowding on him again. He drank his coffee, but pushed away the food
which was before him; and looked through the ARGUS, for the latest
report about the murder case. What he read made his cheek turn a shade
paler than before. He could feel his heart thumping wildly.
"They've found a clue, have they?" he muttered, rising and pacing
restlessly up and down. "I wonder what it can be? I threw that man off
the scent last night, but if he suspects me, there will be no
difficulty in his finding out where I live. Bah! What nonsense I am
talking. I am the victim of my own morbid imagination. There is nothing
to connect me with the crime, so I need not be afraid of my shadow.
I've a good mind to leave town for a time, but if I am suspected
that would excite suspicion. Oh, Madge! my darling," he cried
passionately, "if you only knew what I suffer, I know that you would
pity me--but you must never know the truth--Never! Never!" and
sinking into a chair by the window, he covered his face with his hands.
After remaining in this position for some minutes, occupied with his
own gloomy thoughts, he arose and rang the bell. A faint crackle in the
distance announced that Mrs.
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