It almost seemed as if the hands of angels had been outstretched to foil his nefarious designs, and to draw Floy back, pure and unspotted, to heaven. With these thoughts raging in his excited mind, Otho fled in horror from the scene, and to drown his haunting remorse, spent the night in a drunken orgie with some boon companions, who took him to his hotel in the “wee sma’ hours ayant the twal,” and consigned him to the porters to put to bed. At noon of the next day he awoke with the usual large head incident to such dissipations, and swore at himself for a besotted fool, after which he ordered brandy and soda and breakfast. When he had been bathed, and shaved, and dressed, he still remained pale, tremulous, and shaken, for the horror of last evening had rushed freshly over his mind. “She is dead, poor little Floy, so pretty and so gay, like a merry little humming-bird ever on the wing--dead, and Maybelle will rejoice at the news, but as for me, I must ever bear about with me a load of remorse that will drive me to madness,” he groaned, as he rang the bell for the morning papers, nerving himself to read an account of the tragedy. It was there, on the first page of the paper they brought him, in glaring head-lines: “A PLUNGE TO DEATH! “A Beautiful Young Girl Falls from the Fourth-Story Window of Her Home on Adams Street, and is Removed to Bellevue Hospital in a Dying Condition. “As newsdealer Herr Spiel was dozing last evening in a chair by his news-stand on Adams Street, he was startled from his dreams by hearing something fall with a dull thud on the awning above his head, and springing to his feet, saw with consternation a beautiful young girl roll off the awning down to the pavement. “At first sight the girl seemed to have escaped without injury after her fearful fall, for she rose to her feet very quickly, and stood looking about her with a half-shy smile, as if hoping that no one had noticed her accident. “But in the next moment the pretty face grew pale, the smile faded, and with a groan she sunk unconscious to the earth. “She was Miss Frances Fane, a boarder in the house, and had in some inexplicable manner fallen out of her window in the fourth story. She was removed to Bellevue Hospital in an unconscious condition, believed to be due to internal injuries, and will probably die.” Otho Maury read the paragraphs with working feature, for he knew that the victim was Floy, although a mistake had been made in her name, giving it as Frances. “So she will die, poor little girl, poor little Fly-away Floy,” he muttered, heavily. “Indeed, it is a marvel that she escaped instant death. Heigho! I must go home to-day, and carry the news to Maybelle.” And Otho swept his hand across his eyes to shut out the vision of a fair dead face that he had loved so well in its living beauty, so gay and sunny.