The Forrest City times., 1891-07-10
THE HAUNTED CHAMBER,
BY s'rns DUCHESS. !"
AvGAss sf "Ncried," "Mona Sevllv."
 "PAyIRs," etc., etc
CHATTER x.-coNrrNuEp.


 In0ro IS sometpaug fieno.sh in tho look of exultation that lights Arthur Dynecourt's face. He has small dull lantern with him, and now it reveals the vile glance of triumph that fires his oyes. He would fain have entered to gaze upon his victim, to assure himself 0f his victory, but he refrains. A dead ly fear tkat he may not yet be quite dead keeps him back, and, with a frown, he prepares to descend once more.
 Again he listens, but the sullen roar of the rising night wind is all that can be heard. His hand shakes, his face assumes livid hue, yet he tells him pelf that surely this deadly silence is better than he listened to last night. Then ghostly moaning, almost inces- sant and unearthly in sound, had pierced his brain, It was more like the cry of a dying brute than that of a deathl In his own mind Arthur can zee him now, worn, emaciated, lost to all likeness of anything fair or comedy. Have the rats attacked him yet? As this grewsome thought presents itself, Dynecourt rises quickly from his crouching position, and flying down the steps, does not stop running until he arrives in the corridor below again.
 He dashes into this like one possess eed; but, finding himself in the light of the hanging lamp, collects himself by aviolent effort, and looks around.
 Yes, all is still. No living form but his is near. The corridor, as he glan- oes affrightedly up and down, is empty. He can see nothing but his own shad- Ow, at sight of which he starts and turns pale and shudders.
 The next moment he recovers him. self, and, muttering an anathema upon his cowardice, he moves noiselessly, to- ward his room and the brandy y-bottle that has been his constant companion of late.
 Yet, here in his own room, he can not rest. The hours go by with laggard steps. Midnight has struck, and still be paces his floor from wall to wall |, half-maddened by his thoughts. Not that he relents. No feelings of repen- tance stirs him, there is only nervous dread of the hour when it will be nec- cessary to produce the dead body, if only to prove his claim to the title so dearly and 80 infamously purchased.
 Is he indeed dead-gone past recall? X Is this house, this place, the old title, the chance of winning the woman he would have, all his own? Is his hateful rival-hateful to him only because of bis fair face and genial manners and lovable disposition, and the esteem with which he filled the hearts of all who knew him-actually swept out of his path?
 Again the lurking morbid longing to view the body with his own eyes, the longing that had been his some hours ago when listening at the fatal door, selzes hold of him, and grows in inten- slty with every passing moment.
 At last 1t conquers him. Lighting a candle, he opens his door and peers out. No one is astir. In all probabili- ty every one is abed, and now sleeping tho sleep of the just-all except him. Will there ever be any rest or dream less sleep for him again?
 He goes softly doWn-stairs, and makes his way to the lower door. Meeting no one, he ascends the stairs like ono only half conscious, until he finds himself again before the door of the haunted chamber.
 Then he wakes into sudden life. An awful terror takes possession of him. He struggles with himself, and pres- ently so far succeeds in regaining some degree of composure that he can lean against the wall and wipe his forehead, and VOW to himself that he will never descend until he has accomplished the object of his visit. But the result of this terrible fight with fear and con science shows itself in the increasing pallor of his brow and the cold per- Splratlon that stands thick upon his forehead
 Nerving himself for a final effort, he lays his hand upon the door and pushes 1t open. This he does with bowed head and eyes averted, afraid to look upon his terrible work. A silence more hor- 1ble to his guilty conscience than the most appalling noises, follows this act; and, again the nameless terror seizing him, he leans against it gladly, as if for support.
 And now at last he raises his eyes. Slowly at first and cringingly, as if dreading what they might see. Upon the board at his feet they rest for moment, and then glide to the next board, and so on, until his coward eyes have covered considerable portion of the floor.
 And now, grown bolder, he lifts his gaze to the wall opposite and searches 1t carefully. Then his eyes turn again to the floor. His face ghastly, and with his eyes almost darting from their 0oShCpo, liC NolupC uluiScll bo UIluS HIS awful investigation to an end. Avoid ing the corners at first, as though there he expects his vile deed will cry aloud to him demanding vengeance, he gazes in dazed way at the center of the apartment, and dwells upon it stupid ly, until he knows he must look further still; and then his dull eyes turn to the corners where the dusky shadows lie, brought thither by the glare of his small lantern. Reluctantly, but care- fully, he scans the apartment, no remo- test spot escapes his reused attention. But no object, dead or living, attracts his noticel The room is empty
 He staggers. His hold upon the door relaxes. His lamp falls to the ground; the door closes with a soft but deadly thud behind him, and--he is a prisoner i'll the haunted chamber! AS the dark ness closes in upon him, and he finds himself alone with what he hardly dares to contemplate, his senses grow confused, his brain reels; a fearful scream issues from his lips, and he falls to the floor insensible.
 CHAPTER XI.
 Dora, after her interview with Ar ,rf ,rs oil