New-York tribune., 1906-07-15

LombrosO | have seen the name, somewhere
in Soho, think"
Not the same" said David with due gravity
The man mean is Italian CrIminOlOgiSt of great
note. He lays it down as principle that signature
OF that kind Is a sign of moral degeneraCy. Keep
eye on those among your clients who use such
flourish Mr.. Dibbin.
Good gracious" cried the agent, casting glance
at the Well-stuffed etter-caSes of his Office How
many moral degenerates had left their sign-manual
there?
1.-Two more questions" went on Harcourt
Where do Miss Barnes's relatives reside?"
Her name was not Barnes was the instant
answer; but am pledged to secrecy in that regard.
mere Is AoCneI' lnosI GIll! !lnI1g woman ana
sister, both most charming ladies of family very
highly respected They did not discover the unhappy
girls death until she was long laid to rest
Then, why is the fiat still in the condition in
which Miss Barnes inhabited it ?''
All, that is simple enough. Isn't the agreement
valid for nearly year yet! When that term
pres shall dispose of the furniture and hand over
the proceeds to the young ladys heirs-at-law sub
ject to direction OF in case the real lessee
ever puts in claim"
David stroled out into the crowded solitude of
the streets, with vague mind of Gwendolne Barnes
and Johann Strauss two misty personalities veied
under false names. But they SO dwelt in his mind
that he asked himself if he had fled from the pursuit
of living woman in far Wyoming to be haunted in
England by a dead one? Like most strangers in
London he turned to the police for counsel and told
to an inspector duty at pOhCestatiOn his tale of
the Whit of vOlets, of the eXtinguiShed light in his
corridor and of the real or fanCed brush of wom-
ans skirt somewhere against wall or carpet He was
out much faith However, he learned from the in
SpeCtOr the address of the COrOnerS court where the
inquest had probably been held; it near by and
DaVldS steps led him thlther. There he asked
questions at haphaZard, without picking up anv-
thing of fresh interest; unless it was that Gwendo-
line Barnes lay buried in Kensal Green cemetery.
1t late in the afternoon He strOlled
down TOttenham Court Road into HOlbOrn, ate
deferred luncheon OXfOrd-St., and started to
saunter back home, Sinking a theater matinee,
which irksome since it the fixed thing his
program. But it struck him halfway home that his
charwoman was gone that the fiat was lonely; and
he got into cab, saying to the driver, Kensal
Green cemetery"
Some electric lamps were a-ficker already in the
streets 1t nearly the hour at which London
loudeSt, when the city begins to pour out its
hordes and vans hurry to their bourne, with blocks
in the traffic and more haste less speed. When he
reached the cemetery the closing time was imminent
A little snow lay among the graves, through which
the grass tufts showed, making a ground of black
and white Some few stars had ventured to peep
from the windy sky. A custodian supplied David
with the formal information which he sought The
plot of ground had been bought in perpetuitv; it
was in a shaded place a good distance from the
entrance; Iona cross, erected by friends, marked
the spot, bearing the one word, GwendOline
4" 1t is late sir, said the But mighty is the
power of the tip, even in cemeteries
David walked down avenue of the dead toward
the little mound that covered the young actress. He
perhaps twenty yards from 1t when he heard and
almost stopped the sound of a sob not far away.
He looked this hand and on that, but could
one. he place. with Its silent populace, was more
lonesome than the prairie; and had
been steadily growing up in him since eeven-thrty
of the previous night-the sense of the other
world" of its possible reality and nearness. There
odor here strong enough to his keen nostris,
of flowers especially of violets, and of Ne last end
of mortal man, a blend of sweet and abhOrrent
which was to infect his mind for many day How
ever he did hesitate, but with slower steps that
made hardly sound, turned a corner of the path.
cleared Cump of trees which had blocked his view,
and now the grave of Gwendoine, the cross, a
chaple of fresh violes at the foot of the and
over the cross woman weeping.
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