“I wonder who is dead; must be her father!” he shambled up to her, and laid his hand on her arm. “Ma—” he began; she gave a frightened scream, and started to run; he clutched her more frantically, and cried wildly: “Listen to me! you shall listen to me!” She screamed again at the top of her voice: “Help! Murder! Police!” A gentleman coming toward them, rushed up, and gave Christopher a stunning blow; Maria tore herself loose at the expense of much crape; ran back into the house, and locked the door after herself. Christopher arose from the sidewalk and shuffled off down the street, muttering maledictions as he went. “It’s all a conspiracy! She has got another lover, and thinks to get rid of me; she’ll find that she can’t do it so easily. I’ll wait until dark, and then let myself in with my latchkey; we’ll see whether I am master in my own house or not.” He paced the street angrily until nightfall; stationing himself opposite, he then watched the house until all was dark and silent. Still another hour he waited: “I’ll be sure that the servants are asleep, evidently they have orders to put me out, or Hannah would not have ordered me off as she did. I’ll show them that they will not get the best of Christopher Hembold yet.” About eleven o’clock he cautiously crept up the steps, and as cautiously let himself in; just within he removed his boots; then carefully groped his way to Maria’s room. Her door was unlocked, and by the dim light of the night lamp he saw her round white arm thrown above her head, thus framing her delicate face; the lace on her night robe rising and falling with every breath. A rush of love and tenderness came over him; this was his Maria—the dainty bride whom he had transplanted from her father’s home; he knelt beside the bed, enfolding her in his arms, and pressed a passionate kiss upon her half-parted lips. She opened wide her affrighted eyes; she struggled wildly, letting out one piercing shriek, then fainted. The half-clad servants came running into the room, finding Christopher on his knees beside the bed, chafing Maria’s hands, kissing her pale face, and fondly calling her: “My love! My little one!” Thomas, the coachman, seized him by the shoulders; Maria regaining consciousness, began screaming again; Hannah added to the confusion by crying excitedly, “Throw him out! Call the police! The man is crazy!” Thomas obeyed the first command; he dragged Christopher down the stairs, opened the door, and kicked him out, and down the steps. He lay there a few minutes, completely bewildered. Just as he was struggling to his feet, a policeman came along, and seeing his bewildered condition, his shoeless feet, and battered appearance, laid his hand roughly on his shoulder, and said to him: “What are you doing here?” “This is my home. I am Christopher Hembold!” answered he.