ELIJAH CALLISTER ADDS STILL ANOTHER CRIME TO THE LIST. It was well on toward three o'clock in the morning when P. Slattery, the red-headed proprietor of the Donegal Shades, was aroused from his sleep in the back room behind his saloon by a loud knocking upon the outer door. "Now who the blazes can that be?" he muttered. "It's too early for the market-men, I'm sure. Must be some drunken tramp who hain't got full enough widout disturbin' an honest man in his bed. Go way wid yez, ye spalpeen! It's not Pat Slattery that'll open the dure for yez the night." Thump--thump--thump! Upon the door the knocks were rained with redoubled strength. "Begorra, an' I'm afeard it's break me dure in he'll be after doin'," muttered the saloon-keeper, tumbling sleepily out of bed. He crept across the darkened bar-room, and pulling aside the curtains cautiously, peered out into the deserted street. Two men stood without. P. Slattery recognized in their faces Messrs. Callister and Tisdale at a glance. The stock-broker was in his shirt sleeves and hatless. He was shivering with the cold, while Reuben Tisdale, pale and haggard, stood to one side with his eyes fixed upon the ground. The sound of the movement at the curtain, slight as it had been, had not escaped Mr. Callister's ears. "Open the door, Pat, for God's sake!" he whispered, pressing his face to the glass. "Rube's gone crazy, I think, and I'm almost perished with the cold." "Be the pipers! an's there's suthin' gone wrong!" muttered the saloon-keeper. "It's the ould boy himself that's to pay, I'm afeard." He hastily undid the fastening of the door. Callister and Tisdale entered the saloon. "Some whisky, quick, Pat," exclaimed the former, his teeth chattering as he spoke. "We have had Satan's own time of it getting here, and you must give us a shake down for the balance of the night." "An' I'll do that same wid pleasure, Mr. Callister," cried the Irishman, with the good nature proverbial of his race, as he bustled behind the bar. "Howly mother! but yer gills is as blue as indigo. What happened ye that ye lost the coat an' the hat?" "It's a story that'll take too long to tell, Pat. There, that's better"--he had emptied the glass of raw spirits at a gulp. "Now show us where we can sleep." "It's no use, Lije," said Tisdale gloomily. "You had best light out and save yourself while you can. I shall have no peace until poor Maria's death is avenged. I'm going now to give myself up to the police; to see the spirit of my murdered wife again would kill me. I can't stand it any longer and I won't. As I told you before, I'm the Jonah of the gang." The eyes of Elijah Callister blazed with evil light. "You are, eh?" he hissed between his tightly set teeth. "So you are going to give yourself up, and ruin your friends, you soft-hearted fool--you man of putty--you--you---- Ain't it enough to have lost these plans, to have gone through what we have, without----"