hall has at last no tenants but the night watchman and the police, waiting by the dead gambler. He lies prone on the floor, awaiting his last judge, the city coroner. This genial official is sought from his cards and cups, to certify the causes of death of the outcast of society. A self-demonstrating problem. The gaping wound tells its story. Valois is speechless and stunned with the quickness of the deadly quarrel. He gloomily watches Hardin supporting the fainting woman. Slowly her eyes unclose. They meet Hardin's in one long, steadfast, inscrutable glance. She shudders and says, "Take me away." She covers her siren face with her jewelled hands, to avoid the sight of the waxy features and stiffening form of the thing lying there. Ten minutes ago it was the embodiment of wildest human passion and tiger-like activity. Vale, "French Charlie." Hardin has quickly sent for several influential friends. On their arrival he is permitted to leave, escorted by a policeman. The shaken sorceress, whose fatal beauty has thrown two determined men against each other in a sudden duel to the death, walks at his side. There is a bond of blood sealed between them. It is the mere sensation of a night; the talk of an idle day. On the next evening the "El Dorado" is thronged with a great multitude. It is eager to gaze on the wondrous woman's face, for which "French Charlie" died. Their quest is vain. Another daughter of the Paphian divinity presides at the shrine of rouge et noir. The blood-stains are effaced from the floor. A fresh red mound in the city cemetery is the only relic of French Charlie. Philip Hardin, released upon heavy bail, awaits a farcical investigation. After a few days he bears no legal burden of this crime. Only the easy load upon his conscience. Although the mark of Cain sets up a barrier between him and his fellows, and the murder calls for the vengeance of God, Philip Hardin goes his way with unclouded brow. His eyes have a strange new light in them. The "Queen of the El Dorado" sits no more at the wheel of fortune. Day succeeds to day. Nightly expectation is balked. Her absent charms are magnified in description. The memory of the graceful, dazzling Hortense Duval fades from the men who struggle around the gaming boards of the great "El Dorado." She never shows her charming face again in the hall.