CHAPTER XXXVIII. A Bower of Roses 158 CHAPTER XXXIX. A Little Hand 161 CHAPTER XL. A Startling Revelation 163 CHAPTER XLI. Joy and Sorrow 166 CHAPTER XLII. A Young Girl’s Pride 170 CHAPTER XLIII. Maybelle Writes a Letter 173 CHAPTER XLIV. But One Chance in a Hundred 180 CHAPTER XLV. “Hope Deferred Maketh the Heart Sick” 184 CHAPTER XLVI. “The House is Haunted” 188 CHAPTER XLVII. “Life Is So Sad!” Cried Floy 192 CHAPTER XLVIII. A Strange Romance 198 CHAPTER XLIX. “Something Terrible!” 203 CHAPTER L. The Last Victim 209 CHAPTER LI. “Just One Kiss!” 212 CHAPTER LII. All That Floy Had Longed for in Other Days Was Hers Now--Lucky Little Mortal! 217 * * * * * THE MYSTERY _of_ SUICIDE PLACE CHAPTER I. “IF ONLY----” When the beautiful Miss Maybelle Maury, of Mount Vernon, New York, was returning in October, 1894, from her tour of Europe with her chaperon, Mrs. Vere de Vere, a New York society leader, she was introduced by the latter to our hero, handsome young St. George Beresford, the only son of a New York millionaire. Life on shipboard offers many temptations to flirtation, and the fascinating youth did not show himself indifferent to the challenge that Maybelle’s dark, languishing eyes immediately flashed into his face. He attached himself to her party, and made lazy, languid love to the beauty all the way over. The chaperon was delighted, and plumed herself not a little on the probable grand match she had brought about for her favorite Maybelle. She knew that the girl’s mother, her own distant relative, would be overjoyed at this lucky turn of Fortune’s wheel. Maybelle was nineteen, and it was time she was making her matrimonial market, because she had two younger sisters at school who must come out in a year or two more, and it would be so expensive having three girls in society at once, for the father, though a prosperous New York merchant, could not be rated among the millionaires. Our space, however, will not permit us to follow the progress of Maybelle’s flirtation through those bright October days upon the sea. But when the twain parted in New York, St. George Beresford was invited to visit the beauty at her home in Mount Vernon, close to the great metropolis, and carelessly promised to go “some day.” It was a shame that the handsome rogue forgot all about it afterward, so that they did not meet again until the winter, when Maybelle was spending a month in the height of the season with her New York friend, Mrs. Vere de Vere. Her dark eyes flashed with pleasure as they clasped hands again after those months of separation, and she cried reproachfully: “You forgot your promise!”