He heard at length the key placed, with a trembling hand, in the lock—it turned and Hildegarde stood before him. The hood of her capuchin was thrown back, and her features, deadly pale and rigid in an expression of horror, met his view. She pointed silently towards a figure lying on the ground, which, when Hamilton approached, he found to be the corpse of her cousin! He must have shot himself through the mouth, for the upper part of his head, hair, and brain were scattered in frightful bloody masses around. A more hideous object could hardly be imagined; he turned away, and seizing Hildegarde’s hand, drew her out of the room, while he whispered, “What a dreadful scene for you to have witnessed!” Scarcely were they in the street when, putting her hand to her head, she exclaimed, “My gloves—mask—handkerchief, are in his room—is it of any consequence?” “Of the greatest,” cried Hamilton. “If your name be on the handkerchief, it may lead to most unpleasant inquiries. Wait here. I must return to the room.” As he entered the room for the second time he observed an appearance of confusion in it which, in his haste and anxiety about Hildegarde, had before escaped his observation. Her gloves and handkerchief he found near the stove, and not far from them, to his great surprise, a dagger! On the table, beside the small shaded lamp, stood a wine bottle and tumblers, writing materials, and several letters were heaped together; and, on glancing towards them, he found one addressed to Hildegarde, which he immediately put in his pocket, and then prepared to leave; but, to his dismay, he heard the sound of approaching voices, and at once his unpleasant, perhaps dangerous, situation occurred to him. His known enmity to Raimund made it absolutely necessary for him to endeavour to leave the house without being recognised, and, having tied on Hildegarde’s mask, he took refuge in a small wood-room, ready to escape the first opportunity that should offer. The persons whose voices he had heard were servants; one of them, a French girl, was speaking while he gained his hiding-place, and he heard her say, “The old lady desired me to call her son, I would not go into his room for all the world at this time of night.” “What does she want with him?” “Oh, she says she heard the report of a gun or pistol a short time ago, and is alarmed. She asked me if I had not heard it too?” “And did you hear it?” “How could I when I was not in the house? The best thing I can do is to say that Count Oscar is not yet returned home. I am afraid she won’t believe me, as he never remains late at those Hoffmanns’.” “But you may tell her that I saw him going to the masquerade at nine o’clock in a black domino. We can knock at the door, and if we get no answer, he is not there.” “And if he should answer?” “Why, then, we can speak to him together!”