The Anaconda standard. [volume] (Anaconda, Mont.) 1889-1970, 1890-05-25
hould have been ON honeymoon

should have been on u honeymoon
now"
He was incorriRibly lazy. I, though in
London the most slothful OF created he
ings, set him q splendid example in the
matter of early rising. But he was always
late for breakfast. always late when he
had planned an early excursion TO one OF
the sights Of the METEOROLOGICAL. He ex.
cused himself in his boyish English way
by complaining Of the noise made by the
people In the fish market I'm the early
hours of dawn.
"All very we'll for you. old fellow. You
can afford to give yourself airs and quote
the slueeard with sneerine emphasis.
Your room overlooks the gardens, de-
lightfully quiet and sylvan, no doubt.
Mine faces the Marina, and oh, the babel,
just as ] am In my first sleepy
Delightfully."- dreamy and ideal u life
was; delightfully."- we were regaining our
with unalloyed JOY, TO getting bach TO har-
ness, when something occurred which
shook my calm and carried me hack, i'm
thought. to London and the day before the
cause celebre. A pair OF eyes did it-dull
gray eyes without a particle OF express
opposite me at the d'hote, a man as per.
sonally opposed TO Llffey NJ he well could
be. The maj who had planned to muir
der me i'm London was rather stout, and
had sandy hair and beard; his hands
were coarse; he wore a cheap suit OF
tweed clothes, and was generally ''com-
mon" In appearance. The man whose ex-
p~ressionless eyes were fixed vacantly OF
me as l swallowed my dinner at Mcssina
was slim and dapper. His slick hair and
carefully waxed moustache were dark
brown. His hands were white n jewel
laden, the cut of his clothes was mmacu-
late, and his general appearance was that
| of a foreign dandy.
Yet l could have sworn TO those re-
markable eyes anywhere. Pshaw! The
man died months ago In Charing Cross
hospital. He was not the only person in
vacant. Yet, try as I would they haunted
me. IL was a relief when dancing was
over, and Frank Marston and l lii our
cigars and went for a stroll.
! did not mention my uneasiness to
him because was afraid Of being laughed
Mt for my superstitious fancy. Besides
he began TO talk of his sweetheart, and
that made me think Of Nellie, and so dis
sipated the unpleasant impression the
stranger had made on me.
Yet when we returned TO the hotel, and
Marston had gone up stairs, Ilingeredto
was there, Monsieur Moulin" Tommaso,
the dark-eyed, ~vivacious looking waiter,
was coming from b dining room. A fool
ish impulse prompted me to question him.
Assuming il to be impossible that Liifey
had not died, ia most unlikely possibility.
Of one thing i am sure-that his leg had
been amputated. Assuming -again n
most ridiculous assumpti on-that the
| stranger of the table d'hote was Liffey in
disguise, then he must have n wooden leg.
So by a skillful series of queries led Tom
maso up to the leading-had Monsieur
| Moulin lthe new ARRIVAL n wooden leg?
Tommaso's answer came prompt and
decided.
"Certainly not. his legs were as perfect
as m%onsieur's own" So that matter was
settled, and ! joined Marston with an easy
mind. On the morrow We had plannedan
excursion TO the ruins Of Taormina, and
I was impressing upon him the necessity
| Of starting early. got earnest about il,
| knowing what an inveterate lie abed he
was.
"My dear fellow" he said airily. "Tll
get up il I can. I IN say more. But
the noise in my room is unbearable. II
had yours, now, I'd undertake TO he up by
SUNRISE"
~ have it," cried with a flash Of inspir-
alton. ave will change rooms. / am
seasoned to noise by 10 years Of London.
The Sicilian fishermen will not disturb
me-"
I'VE shall see." he replied dryly, and
prepared to transfer his belongings from
his room to mile.
Good night, old chap. ] shall sleep like
Next morning | was up betimes; Mar
ston was not. sent up to hurry him.
The cammeriere could not get an answer.
Sent again-no answer. He never slept
with his door locked. | opened IL and
looked in. Great God! In the bed he lay,
cold and stiff. The clothes were thrown
zach TO his waist, and In his heart, plunged
up TO the hilt, was a white-handled knife.
I turned sick and held to the bedpost
for My own voice sounded
.,r,uua Ia ma, ans M \ asGoI tho n,os-