Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-05-20

1 and corner of the room as well in the dark as if it was day, because he had often been there before, but he did not | quite realize the direction in which the body of his victim lay, and when he struck his foot against it, the contact l sent thrill of horror to his guilty heart. This fear was intensified ten-fold by the deliberate opening of the room door.
 The assassin moved as lightly as a cat, and quickly stepped back to the corner he had just left, and where, owing to a Friendly bookcase, he would be partly concealed, even if the gas was lighted. It startled him to hear some one nov ing about the place. Then there was a pause of a few seconds, but no light, and | presently the sound of footsteps in the room again. The robber was amazed Could it be that Philip Carson, to whom he had given his quietus, had come back to life, CT was it simply the effect of imagination.
 The door of the study made creaking sound once more, and then some one passed out and moved quite rapidly down the hall.
 Now the robber was interested in know. ing if Philip Carson still lay where he fell, a little to the right of the desk, and he groped about for the body This time it's touch had no terrors for him, and he ex- l perienced a real relief on ascertaining that the millionaire was really dead.
 Just then there was a commotion in the hall, and the robber heard a woman's voice calling loudly:
 Clarence, Clarence. There's some | fpfh ,f,, | with us"
 The assassin waited to hear no more. He seized the cash-box, snatched it from the desk and for a moment hesitated as to whether he should run the gauntlet of the hallway, and take the chances of es- caping with his life and his plumber. Instantly q new idea occurred to him. | There was the window! To open it was but the work of a few seconds, and the thief was gone.
 He had gone but few yards from the place, when the room was filled with light, and he heard the cry of horror which escaped from Zeldas lips, as she beheld the prostrate body of her father.
 Now the assassin was in the shadow. He had left the window open, and he could hear distinctly what was said by the startled Zelda, her sister, and the servants.
 "Oh, dear God, my poor father has been killed!" exclaimed Zelda, as she knelt beside the body. "Who could have done such cruel deed to one who was so kind ?"
 The servants looked at each other in amazement and grief, then the coach man said:
 "Why didn't you stop that man what What man |? asked one of the women.
 "Why the man what run when Miss Zelda called. That's the villain who done this awfal crime."
 "Hush, said the other, That was Clar. ence Carson"
 "Oh, heavens! my cousin !" cried Zelda, in despair. "It cannot belt cannot be- and the heart-broken girl covered her fathers face with kisses.
 Meantime, Clarence Carson was run. ming with all his might in the direction of Dick Dawsons gambling room, to pay his debt of twenty thousand dollars to the fascinating Alice Dawson.
 About midway he was hailed by an old acquaintance, Tom Eckert, his unole's confidential book-keeper, who said:
 ''Hello, Clarence! have not seen you in dogs age" and shook him effusively by the hand.
 Clarence Carson was evidently in an advanced stage of intoXication, but not so far gone that he did not know what he was doing. His face was white, and he was evidently laboring under some great excitement, which he struggled hard to control, but he made some kind of a forced answer to Tom Eckert's greet mE.
 They had been Soon companions upon many an occasion over social glass, and had met frequently in an exciting game at Dick Dawson's gambling rooms.
 It was near a street lamp that they met now, and after shaking hands, Clar- ence said:
 'sWhy, confound it, Tom, your hands are wet !"-then holding his own up to the light, he added-"and bloody, too! Why, what can this mean, old fellow? Have you been ill some rash and hazard ous enterprise
 "Oh, come now, Clarence" answered Eckert. Its your hands that are wet and bloody, and I can see you have stained mine. If any crime has been committed in Grimsby tonight, it will be my duty to see that the police have hold of you in the morning." and Eckert laughed hoarsely.
 "Oh, fudge!" replied Clarence, 1T don't like such fun. Are you going over to Dick Dawson's?"
 q expect to do so after little while."
 "Well, excuse me, am in a bit of q hurry. will see you later," and Clarence was gone.
 It did not take him long until he placed his lost lucre before Alice Dawson, who greeted him with one of her fascinat- ing smiles. She was beautiful woman, and he was fool just then, so that for the time her sway over him was as abso- lute as is that of the spider over the silly fly that he has entrapped in his fatal web.
 The sight of the blood upon Clarence's hands, and upon some of the bills, gave