Stockton Herald, South Durham and Cleveland Advertiser. — 1875-09-04 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

FATE OF THE STREW.  He rushed around to the other side of ten thaw vehicle all unprepared for the scene which was to greet Estrin' e de Lausanne, instead of Hannibal Brown, lay struggling for breath upon the dusty road, and the handcuffed prisoner stood calmly leaning against a tree close by. A pistol, still smoking at the muzzle, lay, however, on the ground at his feet. 'Twas evident that with it he bad shot her. Ironed though his wrists were he had been able to thrust his right hand into the breast of his coat, and his loose cloak concealing his movements to cock it with his thumb, take aim, and discharge it at ais betrayer, even whilst she was keeping close watch upon him. "You bloodthirsty ruffian," said Otto Berliner. "You had far better have shot yourself, I can tell you. Get into the voiture and stay there until I join you. Look sharp about it too, for I never felt so inclined to throw away a thousand pounds in all my life. The pleasure of seeing you writhe about on the ground like that poor girl there would methinks more than compensate me for the loss of the money." "Perhaps another poor girl would suffer worse than 41, death if you disposed of me so summarily," sneered 111 Hannibal Brown.  "Villain, the thought of her alone stays my hand. You betrayed her, and you have been betrayed in turn." "And both betrayers have met their desserts. lam tired and will await you as you propose inside the voiture. Don't let that dead carrion detain you long." He walked slowly towards the vehicle and left the detective to attend the wounded girl. "Where are you hurt I" he asked, kneeling by her side.  "Oh, in my chest—my chest—l am dying." Berliner tore open her dress. One glance was enough to convince him that she had received her death wound. In the very centre of her fair white chest a few drops of blood surrounded the small puncture that the bullet had made in its passage. She was bleeding inwardly. The most skilled surgeon would have been of no service whatever. "I fear that you are dying Katrine," said the detective. "Yes, and away from Paris, that is the vaorst. But you will take me back,won't you I Take me back to my own house in the Rue de Sabliquin ; and if you can, attend my funeral. My will is in the Davenport in the back drawing-room. In it are full directions as to my funeral. Tell the English captain that I forgive him and the thousand pounds that I have won so dearly—give it—yes, give it away in charity, I don't care how, but to those whom you think need it most. She lay still for a minute or two with her great black eyes fixed on the stars that glittered in the dark blue heavens above. Then something also seemed to occur to her mind and she tried to speak. "Ea-ra-iae my head a little higher," she gasped. Berliner did so as gently as any woman could have done, but are it was a foot from the ground she clutched his arm, a spasm crossed her countenance, and a torrent of blood gushed from her mouth. Ere it ceased she was dead. Her own blood had choked _ . .  her. The detective convinced himself of the fact by feeling her heart and pulse; both had ceased to beat. Ere ran dcvm to the river and brought up some water in his hat with which he washed her face and throat. Then he lifted her in his arms and bore her to the voiturei• Placing her gently therein, and exactly opposite her murderer, he sprang in after her, closed and locked the door, and putting his head out at the window told the astonished coachman to drive back to Andelcii, getting m many relays of horses as he could on the road, and performing the forty-five mile journey in time to catch the night mail for Paris.