Bridlington and Quay Gazette. — 1877-07-07 (Bridlington, Humberside, England)

BRADLEY.  CHAPTER XXVIII.  THE FATE OF THE SYREN. He rushed around to the other side of the chunsy vehicle all unprepared for the scene which was to greet him. Ro.trine de Lausanne, instead of Hannibal Brown, lay struggling for breath upon the dusty road, and thJ 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. 'Twee evident that with it he had shot her. Ironed though his wrista were he had been able to thrust his right hand into the breast of his coat, and his loeee cloak concealing his movement: to cock it with hir thumb, take aim and discharge it at his betrayer, even white she was keeping close watch upon him. Yon bloodthirsty ruffian; 'said Otto Bar. liner. 'You had far better have shot yoniself, I can tell you. Get into the voiture and stay there until I join you. Look. ehafp about it to, for I never felt 6Q illatHed to throw iiitat a thousand pounds in all My life. The pleasure of seeing you writhe about oiathe ground like that poor girl there whuld trtethihks more than compensate me for theloss of the money.' Perhaps another Iktedgiri 'mild 'suffer Ic4lat than death if you dispottedlitme so summ sneered Hannibal Brown. 'Villain, the thought of her alone. stay t my baud. You betrayed her, and you have been betrayed in turn.' And both betrayers have met their deserts. am tired and will await you as you propose inside the voitnre. Don't let that dead carrion detain you long.' He walked slowly towards the vehicle and left the detective to attend the Wolinded girl. 'Where are you hurt?' 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 Ana made in Ka passage. She was bleeding inwardly. The most skilled surgeon vrould have been of no service whatever. fear you are dying, Katrina' said the detective. Yes, and away from Paris, that is the word. But you will take me back, won't you? Take use back to my own house in the Rue de Babliquin ; and, if yorrca.n, attend my funeral. My will is in the Davenport in the back drawingroom. In it are full directions as to nay funeral. Tell the English captain that I forgive hint, 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 else seemed to occur to her mind and she tried to speak. Ita-ra-ise my head a little higher,' she  gasped. , . Berliner did so as gently as any woman could have done, but are it RUM foot trom the ground she clutched his arm, a ipaini crossed her countenance, and a torrent of _blood gushed from her mouth. • :r 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. He ran 'down 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 voiture. Placing her gently therein, and exactly opposite her murderer, he sprang in after her, closed and locked the door, and putting his head out of the window, told the astonished postman to drive back to andeloi, getting as many relays of horses as he could on the road, and performing the foity-fivel mile journey in time to catch the tight mail for Paris.