"Great Heavens!" gasped Robbins, and without a word he turned and fled, leaving the Nice Girl transfixed with astonishment and staring after him with a frown on her pretty brow. "What does he mean by such conduct?" she asked herself. But Robbins disappeared from the gathering throng in the large room of the hotel, dashed down the steps, and hurried along the narrow pavements toward the "Golden Dragon." The proprietor was standing in the hallway with his hands behind him, a usual attitude with the Dragon. "Where," gasped Robbins, "is Mr.--Mr.----" and then he remembered he didn't know the name. "Where is the Living Skeleton?" "He has gone to his room," answered the Dragon, "he went early to- night, he wasn't feeling well, I think." "What is the number of his room?" "No. 40," and the proprietor rang a loud, jangling bell, whereupon one of the chambermaids appeared. "Show this gentleman to No. 40." The girl preceded Robbins up the stairs. Once she looked over her shoulder, and said in a whisper, "Is he worse?" "I don't know," answered Robbins, "that's what I have come to see." At No. 40 the girl paused, and rapped lightly on the door panel. There was no response. She rapped again, this time louder. There was still no response. "Try the door," said Robbins. "I am afraid to," said the girl. "Why?" "Because he said if he were asleep the door would be locked, and if he were dead the door would be open." "When did he say that?" "He said it several times, sir; about a week ago the last time." Robbins turned the handle of the door; it was not locked. A dim light was in the room, but a screen before the door hid it from sight. When he passed round the screen he saw, upon the square marble-topped arrangement at the head of the bed, a candle burning, and its light shone on the dead face of the Skeleton, which had a grim smile on its thin lips, while in its clenched hand was a letter addressed to the proprietor of the hotel. The Living Skeleton had given more than the eighty francs to that deserving charity. HIGH STAKES.