CHAPTER XV

When Godfrey woke on the morning of his trial he lay for some moments thinking over the strangeness of his position. He had been definitely assured by Codey that nothing could prevent his being proved innocent, yet how difficult it was to believe this when he was lying on a prison bed in a prison cell with all the grim appurtenances of a convict’s life before him. The very books upon the shelf, the spy-hole in the door, even his bed-clothes, reminded him that he was shut off from his fellow men. At the usual signal he rose and dressed, and, having done so, tidied his cell in the customary fashion. After this his breakfast was served to him, and then he was permitted a short period of exercise in the prison yard. He had not long returned to his cell before he was informed that it was time for him to set off to the Court.

Never, if he lives to be a hundred, will Godfrey Henderson forget the scene that met his eyes when he entered the Court--the judge and the sheriffs upon the Bench, the jurymen seated in their box, the rows of counsel, and the line upon line of eager-eyed spectators. When Godfrey made his appearance in the dock a sudden silence fell upon the Court. The Clerk of Arraigns rose and read over the charge preferred against him, namely, of murdering one Teresina Cardi, and this done he was called upon in the usual manner to plead. Advancing to the front of the dock Godfrey looked straight before him and said, in a calm, strong voice: “Not guilty, my lord.” The jury were then sworn, and as soon as this important business had been completed the counsel for the prosecution rose and told the story of the crime. He described the engagement of the dead woman by the prisoner, his employment of her for some considerable time, and then his hasty departure for the Continent. It would be shown that he had received a letter from her while in Egypt, and that almost immediately afterward he had returned to Naples. In the latter city he had invited her to dine with him, and had taken her to the Opera afterward. He commented upon the fact that the prisoner had voluntarily admitted to the police authorities that he had endeavoured to induce her to return to England. At that time, however, it must be borne in mind that he had not met the lady he now desired to make his wife. Whether he had seen anything of the deceased, prior to their meeting in the Strand, it was as yet impossible to say. The fact, however, remained that his engagement to the lady in the country was ultimately announced. Despite that fact, only ten days before the wedding was to take place, he was known to have met the deceased woman at midnight, and had taken her to her home in Burford Street, leading out of the Tottenham Court Road. By the medical evidence he would presently call, he would prove that less than half-an-hour afterward she was brutally murdered. Before half-past twelve, that is to say, within an hour of the cabman picking them up in the Strand, he would prove that the prisoner returned to his Hotel in Piccadilly, very white and agitated, and had called for brandy. Since his arrest, an exhaustive search had been made at his residence, with the result that a blood-stained knife, which had been identified as having been purchased by the prisoner in Cairo, had been discovered hidden behind a bookcase in his studio. As for the motive of the crime he would point out that the deceased woman wore a wedding ring, that she was known to entertain a great affection for the prisoner, and that the latter was about to be married to another lady. What was more probable than that he should wish to have the other woman out of the way before he could do so? That was certainly only a conjecture, but it was one that carried a large amount of probability with it. He would now proceed to call his witnesses.

The first witness called was the proprietor of the lodging-house, who had identified the body. He was followed by the German cabinet-maker, who had made the first and most important discovery. The police officer, who had been called in when the door had been opened, followed next, succeeded by the doctor who had made the post-mortem examination. The question of identity and discovery having been settled, what the counsel next proposed to do was to connect the prisoner with the crime. The cabman who had picked them up in the Strand and had driven them to Burford Street, was called, and the policeman who had seen them talking together on the pavement there. Victor Fensden next deposed as to the affection the deceased had entertained for the prisoner, and the efforts he had made to induce the latter to give her up. He described Godfrey’s receipt of the letter from Teresina when on the Nile, and stated that the prisoner had said nothing to him concerning his intention to visit the woman in Naples. His next meeting with the prisoner was at the Mahl Stick Club, where he had noticed a reluctance on his part to refer to his association with the woman in the past. This was accentuated on the following Saturday at the prisoner’s residence in Midlandshire. He recognised the knife produced, and recollected the circumstances under which it had been purchased by the prisoner. This concluded Fensden’s evidence, and he accordingly sat down. Various other unimportant witnesses followed, and then the case was adjourned for the day.

Wrapped in suspense, Godfrey was driven back to the jail to turn the evidence over and over in his mind all night long. Whatever trust he might place in Burrell and his discoveries, it was quite certain that another twenty-four hours would elapse before his deliverance could be expected. Once more he scarcely slept. The various events connected with the trial thronged his brain with merciless reiteration. With phonographic distinctness he could recall almost every word that was said. He could see the judge upon the Bench making his notes with pitiless exactness, the various counsel in the well of the Court whispering together, the importance of the jury, and the self-sufficiency of the Court servants. Yet he had Codey’s assurance that all was to be put right in the end, and with this knowledge he was perforce compelled to be content.

At the same hour as on the previous day he was ordered to prepare himself for his journey to the Court. The evidence already given against him was so incriminating that the officials of the jail felt sure that his condemnation was assured. They already looked upon him as a dead man, and marvelled among themselves that he could carry himself with so much assurance.

Once more the Court was crowded. Fashionable London felt that the end of one of the most interesting cases of late years was drawing near, and it was anxious not to lose an opportunity of witnessing the _dénouement_ of the tragedy.

“The Court is ready,” said the warder, and once more Godfrey ascended the stairs that had constituted the link between life and death for so many hundreds of miserable beings before him. He found the judge, stern and implacable as before, upon the Bench, the various counsel in their places, and everyone eagerly awaiting his appearance. He bowed to the judge and took up his position at the rails. He determined that, whatever else they might think, they should not imagine that he was afraid. Then, with the customary ceremonial, the case was commenced.

The counsel for the prosecution having finished his case, Mr. Rolland, having addressed the Court, prepared to call his witnesses. They were few in number. The landlord of Godfrey’s old studio in London deposed that his rent had always been paid to the moment, and that he had heard the deceased talk of the kindness she had received at the prisoner’s hands. “It was always in the language of a dependent,” he said, “and in no way that of a girl who believed her patron to be in love with her.”

When the prosecution had declined to cross-examine this witness, the counsel for the defence arranged his gown and assumed an even more important air. It was evident that something was about to happen. A moment later Victor Fensden was recalled.

“I am anxious, Mr. Fensden,” said the counsel, “to ask you a question regarding your return from the Continent. You have already told the jury that you returned on the morning of the murder. Am I to understand that that was really so?”

“I arrived on Thursday, the 15th,” said Victor, and a close observer would have noticed that he shifted uneasily on his feet as he gave the answer.

“I should be glad also to have your repeated assurance that, from the moment you saw the prisoner purchase that knife in Cairo, you did not behold it again until it was handed you at the Magistrate’s Court?”

“That also is quite true,” said Victor, who by this time was more at his ease.

“That is all I want to ask you. You may sit down,” said the counsel. “Call Simon Updale.”

In response to the summons, a short, stout man, who was the possessor of a fiery beard and the reddest hair ever seen on a human being, made his appearance and took up his position in the box. He deposed that his name was Simon Updale, and that he was an able seaman on a steamer plying between Dover and Calais. On a certain day, a month before the murder, he had been made the subject of a complaint to the captain by the previous witness, Mr. Fensden. He was quite certain of the date and of the passenger’s identity, for the reason that one of his mates had broken his arm before reaching Dover and he wanted to accompany him to the hospital. On account of the complaint, however, he was not permitted to go.

George Perran, steward on the same boat, was next called. He corroborated what the previous witness had said, and recognised the witness Fensden as being the gentleman who had made the complaint.

“That,” said Mr. Rolland, “proves conclusively that the witness in question has committed wilful and corrupt perjury, inasmuch as that he was in England a month before he stated in his evidence.”

Every eye in Court was riveted on Victor Fensden, whose face turned as pale as the paper upon which I am writing.

“I shall now call James Tidmarsh,” said Mr. Rolland, and in response to the summons a small boy climbed into the witness-box.

His name, he stated, was James Tidmarsh, and he called himself an errand boy, though as a rule he spent his time hanging about the vicinity of Euston Station. He remembered distinctly on the night of Friday, the 16th, meeting a gentleman about eight o’clock outside the station who carried a small wooden box in his hand. That gentleman stopped him and asked him if he would care to earn half a sovereign. Upon his eagerly answering in the affirmative, the stranger gave him the box in question with the sum of fifteen shillings. “Take it to the station,” he said, “and hand it in at the parcel-office to be despatched to the address written on the label. It won’t cost more than a couple of shillings or half-a-crown, and you can keep the change for yourself. I’ll wait here until you return to tell me it’s all right.”

The boy then declared that he started off, handed the box in at the parcel-office and paid the money. In taking the money the clerk had _sauced_ him and he had retaliated to the best of his ability. The result was that the policeman on the platform gave him a good shaking and turned him out of the building. He informed the gentleman that he had sent the parcel off, and he had not seen him since that moment until he came into Court and had heard the witness Fensden give his evidence. He, the witness to whom he alluded, was, without a shadow of doubt, the gentleman who had handed him the box to send to Detwich Hall.

The excitement in Court by this time may be better imagined than described. The colour of Fensden’s face was a dirty gray, and he seemed to gasp for breath. The counsel for the prosecution seemed uneasy, and even the judge leaned farther forward than usual, as if he were afraid of losing a word of what was said.

The clerk in the parcel-office was next called, and stated that he remembered the incident in question. The box was a foreign one, and as he had placed it on the floor he had remarked, “Another made in Germany.”

The policeman who had turned the boy out of the station followed him. He had seen the boy deposit a small box upon the counter and heard him say something cheeky to the clerk. He thereupon bundled him out of the station.

When this witness had finished his tale Mr. Rolland said: “Call Jacob Burrell.”

On hearing this a stir ran through the Court. The famous detective was well known to all the officials within the building, and they, in the light of this new discovery and the knowledge that this individual had taken up the prisoner’s case, began to regard the matter in a somewhat different light. There was a slight flicker of a smile upon the austere countenance of the judge when the counsel asked the detective his name.

“Jacob Burrell,” was the reply.

“I understand,” went on the counsel, “that you were instructed by my friend, the solicitor for the defence, to make an investigation into this case. In the course of that investigation did you visit Naples?”

“I did,” the other replied.

“And what did you discover there?”

“I found that the witness Fensden, although he has denied the matter on oath, was in Naples three weeks after the prisoner passed through on his way to England.”

The counsel here informed the jury that five affidavits to this effect would be produced and read. Addressing the witness once more he said:

“Are you aware that the witness Fensden spent the greater part of his time in Naples in the company of the deceased woman?”

“I found that to be the case. On February 3rd they left Naples together for Vienna, stayed together at the Hotel National, in the Käarntner Strasse, and were married on the 26th of that month at the Church at Funfhaus, in the Gurtel Strasse. The wedding-ring, which was still upon the left hand when it was sent to the prisoner, was purchased at the shop of Messrs. Radler & Hass, in the Kohlmarkt.”

“The head of that firm is now in Court,” said Mr. Rolland, “and will give his evidence. Call Herr Radler.”

Herr Radler thereupon entered the box which Burrell had vacated, and stated that he well remembered selling the ring in question to an Englishman who was accompanied by a beautiful Italian lady. The gentleman he recognised as the witness Fensden, and from the photograph, that had been shown to him of the dead woman, he was able to swear that it was for her the ring was purchased.

Victor Fensden, at this point, sprang to his feet as if to speak, but his voice failed him, and he sat down again.

A sworn copy of the marriage certificate having been produced and read, and handed up for the inspection of the jury, Jacob Burrell was recalled.

“When you had traced the witness and the deceased to Vienna, what did you do?”

“I returned to England, _viâ_ Paris and Calais,” he answered. “On reaching London I followed up certain clews I had received, and found that the witness and the deceased lived for a short time together in the country.”

“At what place?”

“At the village of Laleham on the River Thames.”

Here the counsel for the prosecution rose to protest.

“Your lordship,” he said, “I must respectfully submit that the question as to whether Mr. Fensden cohabited with the deceased is not relevant to the case. We are trying the prisoner at the Bar and not Mr. Fensden.”

His opponent took up the challenge.

“I respectfully submit that I am in the right,” said Rolland. “In eliciting this information I am leading up to the question of motive, and I am sure my learned friend will admit that that is an all-important point.

“I am afraid I must rule against you,” said the judge, addressing the Prosecuting counsel. “Anything that tends to throw a light upon the proceedings of the deceased so short a time prior to the murder can scarcely fail to be relevant.”

Once more readjusting his gown, Mr. Rolland invited Burrell to proceed.

“How long did witness and the deceased occupy the house at Laleham?”

“For more than a fortnight. Then Fensden left her in a strange place without a penny in the world.” (Here a murmur of indignation ran through the Court, which, by the judge’s orders, was instantly suppressed.)

“That will do,” said Mr. Rolland. “Call Elizabeth Raikes.”

The owner of Laburnum Cottage next entered the box, and, though much flurried by the novel position in which she found herself, gave evidence to the effect that the deceased and Fensden had occupied apartments at her house for the period mentioned by the previous witness. She was quite sure, from things she had overheard, that they were not happy together, and she knew that the man treated the woman cruelly. Sometimes he was away for a couple of days, and one day he disappeared altogether without paying for anything they had had while in the house, and leaving his wife totally unprovided for. She had heard the present case talked about, but had not associated the victim with the Mrs. Onslow who had occupied rooms at her cottage.

“I have two more witnesses to call,” said Mr. Rolland, when Mrs. Raikes had stepped down. “Then, my lord, I shall have completed my case. Call Mrs. Wilhelmina Montgomery.”

A tall, handsome woman, fashionably attired, stepped into the witness-box and took the oath. In response to the question put her by the counsel for the defence, she stated that her name was Wilhelmina Montgomery, and that she was the widow of George Montgomery, late of Sheffield. “I live at No. 13, Bridgeworth Road, Richmond,” she continued. “I first met the witness, Victor Fensden, at Baden, while travelling with some friends, in December last. We became very intimate, and, when he returned to England early in March, he called upon me at my house. Eventually he asked me to marry him, and after some hesitation I consented to do so. I have three thousand a year invested in Consols, and a considerable amount of ready money lying idle at the bank. This may or may not have been his motive, but I have no knowledge of that. Mr. Fensden was anxious for an immediate marriage, but to this I would not consent. I knew that he was in the hands of the Jews, but I would have paid off his indebtedness after marriage. He stayed at my house on several occasions, as did others of my friends. One day I went out to do some shopping, and on my return discovered him in my boudoir. He held a piece of yellow soap in his hand and a large number of door-keys were spread out on the table before him. I asked him what he was doing, and he answered that he was endeavouring to find a key similar to the one he had lost. My housekeeper had furnished him with several, and he had at last found one that fitted the imprint in the soap. On the night of the murder he informed me that it would be necessary for him to attend an important meeting, and that it was just possible he would not be back until late. As a matter of fact, it was considerably after one o’clock, perhaps half-past one, when he returned. On the Saturday following he left me to go down to Midlandshire to pay a visit to an old friend, he said, who was about to be married. Before he went he once more pressed me for an early marriage, suggesting, knowing that I am fond of travelling, that we should immediately set off for a long trip round the world.”

The box which had contained the hands was then handed to her, and she was asked if she recognised it.

“Yes,” she answered immediately. “If you look underneath I think you will find a large inkstain. (This proved to be the case.) I brought some things in it from Vienna. How Mr. Fensden obtained possession of it, however, I do not know.”

The counsel for the prosecution having no questions to ask, the witness was allowed to stand down.

“Call Joseph Hodder,” said Mr. Rolland, and, to Godfrey’s amazement, one of his own under-gardeners entered the box. Having taken the oath, he stated, in reply to the counsel’s question, that, on the Sunday following the murder, it was his duty to attend to the stoking of the fires of the various conservatories at the Hall. He knew that his master and the ladies had gone to Church, because he had passed them in the park, and that the strange gentleman had remained at home, because, when he had passed the drawing-room window on his way to his work, he saw him sitting before the fire reading. Having attended to the fires in the vineries and other garden-houses, he returned to the Hall itself to look after the heat in the new winter garden that Mr. Henderson had built. From this house in question it is quite possible to see into the studio, and, to his surprise, he discovered the gentleman visitor was no longer in the drawing-room, but was kneeling beside the big bookcase near the fireplace in the studio. It looked as if he were feeling for something behind it, but what that something was he had no idea. When he was asked why he had not given information on this matter before, he replied that he had not attached any importance to it until he had talked it over with the head gardener on the day following the search by the police. Then he had gone to Miss Henderson, and had told her. She had written at once to his master’s lawyer, and that was all he knew about it.

“The evidence of this man,” said Mr. Rolland, “completes my case.”

The words had scarcely left his lips before Victor Fensden was seen to spring to his feet. Once more he opened his mouth as if to speak, and once more he failed to utter a word. Then, with a loud cry, he fell forward in a swoon. Two of the policemen near at hand ran forward to pick him up. Between them, they carried him out of the Court to an adjoining room. In the Court itself at that moment, it would have been possible to have heard a pin drop. Then the judge found his voice.

“Gentlemen,” he said, addressing the jury, “after the astounding evidence you have just heard, I am thankful to say that, in my opinion, there is not the least shadow of a reason for continuing the case against the prisoner at the bar. In this I feel sure you will concur with me.”

The foreman of the jury entirely agreed with his lordship, and at the same time desired to express, on behalf of himself and his brother jurymen, their great regret that a gentleman of Mr. Henderson’s position should, by another man’s action, have been placed in such an unhappy predicament.

“With that I quite agree,” said the counsel for the prosecution.

This was the signal for general applause in Court, which, somehow, was not checked by the judge as quickly as is customary in such cases.

When silence had been restored, the latter addressed Godfrey.

“Godfrey Henderson,” he said, and his voice was very impressive, “by reason of the false evidence that has been given against you, by a cruel and vindictive man, you have been brought to the dock of this Court, and charged with the perpetration of a most cruel and bloodthirsty crime. Of that crime twelve of your countrymen have declared you to be innocent, and to their testimony I emphatically add my own. While it is not in my power to offer you the hope of receiving any return for the anxiety you have suffered, I can say something that I know you will value much more; that is, that you leave this Court a free man, and without the shadow of a stain upon your character.”

“I thank you, my lord,” said Godfrey, quietly, and at that moment one of the ushers of the Court entered and approached the judge.

“Gentlemen,” said the latter, again addressing the Court, “I think it only right to make it known to you that a Higher Power than that I represent has intervened, and the wretched man, who has caused all this misery and suffering, has been suddenly called to appear before a greater Tribunal. May God have mercy upon his soul!”

Then the Court was cleared, and Godfrey found himself shaking hands with Sir Vivian and the men who had worked so hard to prove his innocence. When he had thanked them from the very bottom of his heart, Sir Vivian took his arm.

“Come away now, come away,” said the old gentleman. “There are other people waiting to welcome you.”

Seizing Godfrey by the arm, he hurried him out into the street to a cab which was waiting there. Ten minutes later he was locked in his mother’s arms.

“O Godfrey,” said Molly, as he embraced her in her turn, “I knew that God would send you back to me!”

* * * * *

A week later Godfrey and Molly were married by special license, and left England the same day for the South of France. They are now back again at the Hall, and as happy as two young people could well expect to be. The clouds that shadowed their lives at one time are now completely dispersed, but, if Godfrey lives to be a hundred, he will never forget the agony he suffered in connection with what the newspapers called “The Mystery of the Clasped Hands.”

THE END

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CAMBRIDGE. 90. _The Story of Philip Methuen_. By Mrs. J. H. NEEDELL. 91. _Amethyst_. By C. R. COLERIDGE. 92. _Don Braulio_. By J. VALERA. Translated by C. BELL. 93. _The Chronicles of Mr. Bill Williams_. By R. M. JOHNSTON. 94. _A Queen of Curds and Cream_. By D. GERARD. 95. “_La Bella” and Others_. By E. CASTLE. 96. “_December Roses_.” By Mrs. CAMPBELL-PRAED. 97. _Jean de Kerdren_. By J. SCHULTZ. 98. _Etelka’s Vow_. By D. GERARD. 99. _Cross Currents_. By M. A. DICKENS. 100. _His life’s Magnet_. By T. ELMSLIE. 101. _Passing the Love of Women_. By Mrs. J. H. NEEDELL. 102. _In Old St. Stephen’s_. By J. DRAKE. 103. _The Berkeleys and their Neighbors_. By M. E. SEAWELL. 104. _Mono Maclean, Medical Student_. By G. TRAVERS. 105. _Mrs. Bligh_. By R. BROUGHTON. 106. _A Stumble on the Threshold_. By J. PAYN. 107. _Hanging Moss_. By P. LINDAU. 108. _A Comedy of Elopement_. By C. REID. 109. _In the Suntime of her Youth_. By B. WHITBY. 110. _Stories in Black and White_. By T. HARDY and Others. 110-1/2. _An Englishman in Paris_. 111. _Commander Mendoza_. By J. VALERA. 112. _Dr. Paull’s Theory_. By Mrs. A. M. DIEHL. 113. _Children of Destiny_. By M. E. SEAWELL. 114. _A Little Minx_. By A. CAMBRIDGE. 115. _Capt’n Davy’s Honeymoon_. By H. CAINE. 116. _The Voice of a Flower_. By E. GERARD. 117. _Singularly Deluded_. By S. GRAND. 118. _Suspected_. By L. STRATENUS. 119. _Lucia, Hugh, and Another_. By Mrs. J. H. NEEDELL. 120. _The Tutor’s Secret_. By V. CHERBULIEZ. 121. _From the Five Rivers_. By Mrs. F. A. STEEL. 122. _An Innocent Impostor, and Other Stories_. By M. GRAY. 123. _Ideala_. By S. GRAND. 124. _A Comedy of Masks_. By E. DOWSON and A. MOORE. 125. _Relics_. By F. MACNAB. 126. _Dodo: A Detail of the Day_. By E. F. BENSON. 127. _A Woman of Forty_. By E. STUART. 128. _Diana Tempest_. By M. CHOLMONDELEY. 129. _The Recipe for Diamonds_. By C. J. C. HYNE. 130. _Christina Chard_. By Mrs. CAMPBELL-PRAED. 131. _A Gray Eye or So_. By F. F. MOORE. 132. _Earlscourt_. By A. ALLARDYCE. 133. _A Marriage Ceremony_. By A. CAMBRIDGE. 134. _A Ward in Chancery_. By Mrs. ALEXANDER. 135. _Lot 13_. By D. GERARD. 136. _Our Manifold Nature_. By S. GRAND. 137. _A Costly Freak_. By M. GRAY. 138. _A Beginner_. By R. BROUGHTON. 139. _A Yellow Aster_. By Mrs. M. CAFFYN (“IOTA”). 140. _The Rubicon_. By E. F. BENSON. 141. _The Trespasser_. By G. PARKER. 142. _The Rich Miss Riddell_. By D. GERARD. 143. _Mary Fenwick’s Daughter_. By B. WHITBY. 144. _Red Diamonds_. By J. MCCARTHY. 145. _A Daughter of Music_. By G. COLMORE. 146. _Outlaw and Lawmaker_. By Mrs. CAMPBELL-PRAED. 147. _Dr. Janet of Harley Street_. By A. KENEALY. 148. _George Mandeville’s Husband_. By C. E. RAIMOND. 149. _Vashti and Esther_. 150. _Timar’s Two Worlds_. By M. JOKAI. 151. _A Victim of Good Luck_. By W. E. NORRIS. 152. _The Trail of the Sword_. By G. PARKER. 153. _A Mild Barbarian_. By E. FAWCETT. 154. _The God in the Car_. By A. HOPE. 155. _Children of Circumstance_. By Mrs. M. CAFFYN. 156. _At the Gate of Samaria_. By W. J. LOCKE. 157. _The Justification of Andrew Lebrun_. By F. BARRETT. 158. _Dust and Laurels_. By M. L. PENDERED. 159. _The Good Ship Mohock_. By W. C. RUSSELL. 160. _Noémi_. By S. BARING-GOULD. 161. _The Honour of Savelli_. By S. L. YEATS. 162. _Kitty’s Engagement_. By F. WARDEN. 163. _The Mermaid_. By L. DOUGALL. 164. _An Arranged Marriage_. By D. GERARD. 165. _Eve’s Ransom_. By G. GISSING. 166. _The Marriage of Esther_. By G. BOOTHBY. 167. _Fidelis_. By A. CAMBRIDGE. 168. _Into the Highways and Hedges_. By F. F. MONTRÉSOR. 169. _The Vengeance of James Vansittart_. By Mrs. J. H. NEEDELL. 170. _A Study in Prejudices_. By G. PASTON. 171. _The Mistress of Quest_. By A. SERGEANT. 172. _In the Year of Jubilee_. By G. GISSING. 173. _In Old New England_. By H. BUTTERWORTH. 174. _Mrs. Musgrave--and Her Husband_. By R. MARSH. 175. _Not Counting the Cost_. By TASMA. 176. _Out of Due Season_. By A. SERGEANT. 177. _Scylla or Charybdis?_ By R. BROUGHTON. 178. _In Defiance of the King_. By C. C. HOTCHKISS. 179. _A Bid for Fortune_. By G. BOOTHBY. 180. _The King of Andaman_. By J. M. COBBAN. 181. _Mrs. Tregaskiss_. By Mrs. CAMPBELL-PRAED. 182. _The Desire of the Moth_. By C. VANE. 183. _A Self-Denying Ordinance_. By M. HAMILTON. 184. _Successors to the Title_. By Mrs. L. B. WALFORD. 185. _The Lost Stradivarius_. By J. M. FALKNER. 186. _The Wrong Man_. By D. GERARD. 187. _In the Day of Adversity_. By J. BLOUNDELLE-BURTON. 188. _Mistress Dorothy Marvin_. By J. C. SNAITH. 189. _A Flash of Summer_. By Mrs. W. K. CLIFFORD. 190. _The Dancer in Yellow_. By W. E. NORRIS. 191. _The Chronicles of Martin Hewitt_. By A. MORRISON. 192. _A Winning Hazard_. By Mrs. ALEXANDER. 193. _The Picture of Las Cruces_. By C. REID. 194. _The Madonna of a Day_. By L. DOUGALL. 195. _The Riddle Ring_. By J. MCCARTHY. 196. _A Humble Enterprise_. By A. CAMBRIDGE. 197. _Dr. Nikola_. By G. BOOTHBY. 198. _An Outcast of the Islands_. By J. CONRAD. 199. _The King’s Revenge_. By C. BRAY. 200. _Denounced_. By J. BLOUNDELLE-BURTON. 201. _A Court Intrigue_. By B. THOMPSON. 202. _The Idol-Maker_. By A. SERGEANT. 203. _The Intriguers_. By J. D. BARRY. 204. _Master Ardick, Buccaneer_. By F. H. COSTELLO. 205. _With Fortune Made_. By V. CHERBULIEZ. 206. _Fellow Travellers_. By G. TRAVERS. 207. _McLeod of the Camerons_. By M. HAMILTON. 208. _The Career of Candida_. By G. PASTON. 209. _Arrested_. By E. STUART. 210. _Tatterley_. By T. GALLON. 211. _A Pinchbeck Goddess_. By Mrs. J. M. FLEMING (A. M. Kipling). 212. _Perfection City_. By Mrs. ORPEN. 213. _A Spotless Reputation_. By D. GERARD. 214. _A Galahad of the Creeks_. By S. L. YEATS. 215. _The Beautiful White Devil_. By G. BOOTHBY. 216. _The Sun of Saratoga_. By J. A. ALTSHELER. 217. _Fierceheart, the Soldier_. By J. C. SNAITH. 218. _Marietta’s Marriage_. By W. E. NORRIS. 219. _Dear Faustina_. By R. BROUGHTON. 220. _Nùlma_. By Mrs. CAMPBELL-PRAED. 221. _The Folly of Pen Harrington_. By J. STURGIS. 222. _A Colonial Free-Lance_. By C. C. HOTCHKISS. 223. _His Majesty’s Greatest Subject_. By S. S. THORBURN. 224. _Mifanwy: A Welsh Singer_. By A. RAINE. 225. _A Soldier of Manhattan_. By J. A. ALTSHELER. 226. _Fortune’s Footballs_. By G. B. BURGIN. 227. _The Clash of Arms_. By J. BLOUNDELLE-BURTON. 228. _God’s Foundling_. By A. J. DAWSON. 229. _Miss Providence_. By D. GERARD. 230. _The Freedom of Henry Meredyth_. By M. HAMILTON. 231. _Sweethearts and Friends_. By M. GRAY. 232. _Sunset_. By B. WHITBY. 233. _A Fiery Ordeal_. By TASMA. 234. _A Prince of Mischance_. By T. GALLON. 235. _A Passionate Pilgrim_. By P. WHITE. 236. _This Little World_. By D. C. MURRAY. 237. _A Forgotten Sin_. By D. GERARD. 238. _The Incidental Bishop_. By G. ALLEN. 239. _The Lake of Wine_. By B. CAPES. 240. _A Trooper of the Empress_. By C. ROSS. 241. _Torn Sails_. By A. RAINE. 242. _Materfamilias_. By A. CAMBRIDGE. 243. _John of Strathbourne_. By R. D. CHETWODE. 244. _The Millionaires_. By F. F. MOORE. 245. _The Looms of Time_. By Mrs. H. FRASER. 246. _The Queen’s Cup_. By G. A. HENTY. 247. _Dicky Monteith_. By T. GALLON. 248. _The Lust of Hate_. By G. BOOTHBY. 249. _The Gospel Writ in Steel_. By ARTHUR PATERSON. 250. _The Widower_. By W. E. NORRIS. 251. _The Scourge of God_. By J. BLOUNDELLE-BURTON. 252. _Concerning Isabel Carnaby_. By ELLEN THORNEYCROFT FOWLER. 253. _The Impediment_. By D. GERARD. 254. _Belinda--and Some Others_. By ETHEL MAUDE. 255. _The Key of the Holy House_. By ALBERT LEE. 256. _A Writer of Books_. By G. PASTON. 257. _The Knight of the Golden Chain_. By R. D. CHETWODE. 258. _Ricroft of Withens_. By HALLIWELL SUTCLIFFE. 259. _The Procession of Life_. By HORACE A. VACHELL. 260. _By Berwen Banks_. By A. RAINE. 261. _Pharos, the Egyptian_. By GUY BOOTHBY. 262. _Paul Carah, Cornishman_. By CHARLES LEE. 263. _Pursued by the Law_. By J. MACLAREN COBBAN. 264. _Madame Izàn_. By Mrs. CAMPBELL-PRAED. 265. _Fortune’s my Foe_. By J. BLOUNDELLE-BURTON. 266. _A Cosmopolitan Comedy_. By ANNA ROBESON BROWN. 267. _The Kingdom of Hate_. By T. GALLON. 268. _The Game and the Candle_. By RHODA BROUGHTON. 269. _Dr. Nikola’s Experiment_. By GUY BOOTHBY. 270. _The Strange Story of Hester Wynne_. By G. COLMORE. 271. _Lady Barbarity_. By J. C. SNAITH. 272. _A Bitter Heritage_. By JOHN BLOUNDELLE-BURTON. 273. _The Heiress of the Season_. By Sir WILLIAM MAGNAY, Bart. 274. _A Voyage at Anchor_. By W. CLARK RUSSELL. 275. _The Idol of the Blind_. By T. GALLON. 276. _A Corner of the West_. By EDITH HENRIETTA FOWLER. 277. _The Story of Ronald Kestrel_. By A. J. DAWSON. 278. _The World’s Mercy_. By M. GRAY. 279. _The Gentleman Pensioner_. By ALBERT LEE. 280. _A Maker of Nations_. By GUY BOOTHBY. 281. _Mirry-Ann_. By NORMA LORIMER. 282. _The Immortal Garland_. By ANNA ROBESON BROWN. 283. _Garthowen_. By ALLEN RAINE. 284. _The Lunatic at Large_. By J. STORER CLOUSTON. 285. _The Seafarers_. By JOHN BLOUNDELLE-BURTON. 286. _The Minister’s Guest_. By ISABEL SMITH. 287. _The Last Sentence_. By M. GRAY. 288. _Brown of Lost River_. By MARY E. STICKNEY. 289. _The Jay-Hawkers_. By ADELA E. ORPEN. 290. _The Flower of the Flock_. By W. E. NORRIS. 291. _A Private Chivalry_. By FRANCIS LYNDE. 292. _King Stork of the Netherlands_. By ALBERT LEE. 293. _Path and Goal_. By ADA CAMBRIDGE. 294. _My Indian Queen_. By GUY BOOTHBY. 295. _A Hero in Homespun_. By WM. E. BARTON. 296. _A Royal Exchange_. By J. MACLAREN COBBAN.

* * * * *

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.

* * * * *

FOR NATURE LOVERS AND ANGLERS.

* * * * *

Familiar Fish: Their Habits and Capture.

A Practical Book on Fresh-Water Game Fish. By EUGENE MCCARTHY. With an Introduction by Dr. David Starr Jordan, President of Leland Stanford Junior University, and numerous Illustrations. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.

This informing and practical book describes in a most interesting fashion the habits and environment of our familiar freshwater game fish, including anadromous fish like the salmon and sea trout. The life of a fish is traced in a manner very interesting to Nature lovers, while the simple and useful explanations of the methods of angling for different fish will be appreciated by fishermen old and young. As one of the most experienced of American fishermen, Mr. McCarthy is able to speak with authority regarding salmon, trout, ouananiche, bass, pike, and pickerel, and other fish which are the object of the angler’s pursuit. His clear and practical counsel as to fly-casting, and rods and tackle and their use, and his advice as to outfits and the various details of camp life, render his book a most useful companion for all sportsmen and campers. Dr. David Starr Jordan has read the manuscript, and has lent the weight of his approval by writing an introduction. The book is profusely illustrated with pictures and serviceable diagrams.

* * * * *

BOOKS FOR NATURE LOVERS.

* * * * *

By F. SCHUYLER MATHEWS.

Familiar Flowers of Field and Garden.

Illustrated by the Author. 12mo. Library Edition, cloth, $1.75; Pocket Edition, flexible morocco, $2.25.

Familiar Trees and their Leaves.

Illustrated from Nature by the Author. 12mo. Cloth, $1.75.

Familiar Features of the Roadside.

With Illustrations by the Author. 12mo. Cloth, $1.75.

Familiar Life in Field and Forest.

With many Illustrations. 12mo. Cloth, $1.75.

* * * * *

The Art of Taxidermy.

By JOHN ROWLEY. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, $2.00.

Insect Life.

By JOHN HENRY COMSTOCK. 12mo. Library Edition, cloth, $2.50; Teachers’ and Students’ Edition, $1.50.

The Insect World.

By CLARENCE M. WEED. 12mo. Cloth, 60 cents.

Bird-Life.

A Study of our Common Birds. By FRANK M. CHAPMAN, Assistant Curator of Mammalogy and Ornithology in the American Museum of Natural History. Illustrated by Ernest Seton Thompson. 12mo, cloth, $1.75. With 75 full-page Plates in Colors, 8vo, cloth, $5.00.

Handbook of Birds of Eastern North America.

By FRANK M. CHAPMAN. With nearly 200 Illustrations. 12mo. Library Edition, cloth, $3.00; Pocket Edition, flexible morocco, $3.50.

* * * * *

RECENT FICTION.

* * * * *

The Brass Bottle.

A Romance. By F. ANSTEY, author of “Vice Versa,” etc., With Frontispiece. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.

“Not only is the plot of the book novel, like all of Anstey’s work, but he has developed it with rare skill. The rollicking hilarity and absurdity of the conception are carried off with a gravity and seriousness that is the very essence of droll fun. The man who loves to laugh will find ‘The Brass Bottle’ a fountain of mirth.”--_Brooklyn Eagle_.

The Eagle’s Heart.

A Story of the West. By HAMLIN GARLAND, author of “A Spoil of Office,” “A Member of the Third House,” “Wayside Courtships,” etc. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.

“‘The Eagle’s Heart’ is Mr. Garland’s best work, considered as a story of sustained interest, strong characters, and exciting incidents.”--_Cleveland Plain Dealer_.

“Hamlin Garland may be seen at his best in ‘The Eagle’s Heart.’... He has graphically depicted the wild life on the Western plains; he has added a symmetrical and intensely interesting character study of the typical plainsman, and through the whole there runs a dainty love motive. These elements are combined with artistic skill.”--_Chicago Tribune_.

“Mr. Garland gives us as true a historical novel as any of the colonial period or the days of the War for Independence. He presents the dignity of the life and its service to the nation. ‘The Eagle’s Heart’ is a splendid achievement.”--_New York Mail and Express_.

The Footsteps of a Throne.

A Romance. By MAX PEMBERTON. Uniform with “Kronstadt” and “The Phantom Army.” Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.

“The reader’s attention is held breathlessly until the last page has been turned.”--_Boston Journal_.

“The book trade has all at once had a great revival. Quite ten thousand copies of Mr. Max Pemberton’s new story, ‘Footsteps of a Throne,’ have already been issued in this country alone. Of course, this is generally regarded as by far the best story, as well as one of the most dramatic, the author has yet written.”--_From a special London cable to the New York Herald_.

* * * * *

ADA CAMBRIDGE’S NOVELS.

Each, 12mo, cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cents.

* * * * *

Path and Goal.

This latest book shows the constant human interest which characterizes the work of this sympathetic and charming writer. There is an entertaining plot, and the backgrounds of the varying scenes of action are sketched most vividly.

Materfamilias.

“The story is fragrant with the breath of farms, the aroma of the salt sea, and the even sweeter essence that exhales from the homely virtues, practiced amid simple surroundings, where family ties are strong, and where love, loyal and true, reigns as queen.”--_Philadelphia Item_.

A Humble Enterprise.

“A restful, sympathetic, domestic story, full of tender pathos, excellent character drawing, and genuine, lovable human nature--a story to be read, not once, but again and again.”--_London Daily Mail_.

Fidelis.

“The original flavor of Ada Cambridge is not lost but enriched by being ingrafted on a sturdy stock. Her pictures of Australia and of rural England are as attractive as ever, her story better than ever.”--_New York Evening Post_.

My Guardian.

“A story which will, from first to last, enlist the sympathies of the reader by its simplicity of style and fresh, genuine feeling.... The author is _au fait_ at the delineation of character.”--_Boston Transcript_.

The Three Miss Kings.

“An exceedingly strong novel. It is an Australian story, teeming with a certain calmness of emotional power that finds expression in a continual outflow of living thought and feeling.”--_Boston Times_.

Not All in Vain.

“A worthy companion to the best of the author’s former efforts, and in some respects superior to any of them.”--_Detroit Free Press_.

A Marriage Ceremony.

“Highly original in conception, its action graceful though rapid, and its characters sparkling with that life and sprightliness that have made their author rank as a peer of delineators.”--_Baltimore American_.

A Little Minx.

“A thoroughly charming novel, which is just the finest bit of work its author has yet accomplished.”--_Baltimore American_.

* * * * *

BOOKS BY ALLEN RAINE.

Each, 12mo, cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cents.

* * * * *

Garthowen: A Welsh Idyl.

“Wales has long waited for her novelist, but he seems to have come at last in the person of Mr. Allen Raine, who has at once proved himself a worthy interpreter and exponent of the romantic spirit of his country.”--_London Daily Mail_.

By Berwen Banks.

“Mr. Raine enters into the lives and traditions of the people, and herein lies the charm of his stories.”--_Chicago Tribune_.

“Interesting from the beginning, and grows more so as it proceeds.”--_San Francisco Bulletin_.

“It has the same grace of style, strength of description, and dainty sweetness of its predecessors.”--_Boston Saturday Evening Gazette_.

Torn Sails.

“It is a little idyl of humble life and enduring love, laid bare before us, very real and pure, which in its telling shows us some strong points of Welsh character--the pride, the hasty temper, the quick dying out of wrath.... We call this a well-written story, interesting alike through its romance and its glimpses into another life than ours.”--_Detroit Free Press_.

“Allen Raine’s work is in the right direction and worthy of all honor.”--_Boston Budget_.

Mifanwy: A Welsh Singer.

“Simple in all its situations, the story is worked up in that touching and quaint strain which never grows wearisome no matter how often the lights and shadows of love are introduced. It rings true, and does not tax the imagination.”--_Boston Herald_.

“One of the most charming tales that has come to us of late.”--_Brooklyn Eagle_.

* * * * *

BOOKS BY J. A. ALTSHELER.

* * * * *

In Circling Camps.

A Romance of the American Civil War. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.

“Mr. Altsheler has an enviable reputation. His method is that of Fenimore Cooper.... In ‘In Circling Camps’ he tells a good, strong, human story for its own sake, and not for the sake of showing off his talent as a literary story-teller. He gives us some great battle pieces, notably Shiloh and Gettysburg. His admiration of the nobler qualities of ‘old friends turned foes’ is so hearty and so sincerely dramatic that we love and pity the terrible valor of both.”--_Richard Henry Stoddard, in the New York Mail and Express_.

“The author seeks to interpret some of the situations of the civil war, and read to us out of the well-known records the story of personal bravery, the drama of personal history, and the old story of love which went on behind the grim scenes of war.”--_Philadelphia Call_.

A Herald of the West.

An American Story of 1811-1815. 12mo. Cloth, $ 1.50.

“A portion of our history that has not before been successfully embodied in fiction.... Extremely well written, condensed, vivid, picturesque, and there is continual action.... A rattling good story, and unrivaled in fiction for its presentation of the American feeling toward England during our second conflict.”--_Boston Herald_.

A Soldier of Manhattan.

And his Adventures at Ticonderoga and Quebec. 12mo. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cents.

“The story is told in such a simple, direct way that it holds the reader’s interest to the end, and gives a most accurate picture of the times.”--_Boston Transcript_.

“Graphic and intensely interesting.... The book may be warmly commended as a good specimen of the fiction that makes history real and living.”--_San Francisco Chronicle_.

The Sun of Saratoga.

A Romance of Burgoyne’s Surrender. 12mo. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cents.

“Taken altogether, ‘The Sun of Saratoga’ is the best historical novel of American origin that has been written for years, if not, indeed, in a fresh, simple, unpretending, unlabored, manly way, that we have ever read.”--_New York Mail and Express_.

“A sprightly and spirited romance gracefully written in a crisp, fresh style that is simply delightful to read.”--_Philadelphia Press_.

* * * * *

“AN EPIC OF THE WEST.”

* * * * *

The Girl at the Halfway House.

A Romance of the Plains. By E. HOUGH, author of “The Story of the Cowboy.” 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.

The author of “The Girl at the Halfway House,” Mr. E. Hough, gained general recognition by his remarkable book, “The Story of the Cowboy,” published by D. Appleton and Company in this country, and also published in England.

“The Girl at the Halfway House” has been called an American epic by critics who have read the manuscript. The author illustrates the strange life of the great westward movement which became so marked in this country after the civil war. A dramatic picture of a battlefield, which has been compared to scenes in “The Red Badge of Courage,” opens the story. After this “Day of War,” in which the hero and heroine first meet, there comes “The Day of the Buffalo.” The reader follows the course of the hero and his friend, a picturesque old army veteran, to the frontier, then found on the Western plains. The author, than whom no one can speak with fuller knowledge, pictures the cowboy on his native range, the wild life of the buffalo hunters, the coming of the white-topped emigrant wagons, and the strange days of the early land booms. Into this new world comes the heroine, whose family finally settles near at hand, illustrating the curious phases of the formation of a prairie home. The third part of the story, called “The Day of the Cattle,” sketches the wild days when the range cattle covered the plains and the cowboys owned the towns. The fourth part of the story is called “The Day of the Plow,” and in this we find that the buffalo has passed from the adopted country of hero and heroine, and the era of towns and land booms has begun.

Nothing has been written on the opening of the West to excel this romance in epic quality, and its historic interest, as well as its freshness, vividness, and absorbing interest, should appeal to every American reader.

* * * * *

A NEW HISTORICAL ROMANCE.

* * * * *

Betsy Ross.

_A Romance of the Flag_. By CHAUNCEY C. HOTCHKISS, author of “In Defiance of the King,” etc. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.

“Betsy Ross” is a historical romance based upon the story of the maker of the first official American flag. Mrs. Ross was a charming young widow of but little more than twenty-three when she was commissioned to make the flag from a design submitted to her by Washington. Her husband had been killed by an accident at the Philadelphia arsenal within a few months after his marriage.

The romance which the author has woven around the origin of our flag will quicken the pulse of every reader by the wealth of striking characters and dramatic incidents, and the absorbing interest of the plot. History has furnished a motive which has been curiously neglected in fiction, and the picturesque figures of the time, sea-rangers and Quakers, redcoats and Continental soldiers, and even Washington himself, have to do with the development of a strange and thrilling story wherein Betsy Ross takes the leading part. The ancient tavern, the home of the Philadelphia merchant, the flag-maker’s little shop, and the quaint and charming life of the time, are shown as the background of a series of swift incidents which hold the reader’s attention. “Betsy Ross” is a book to be read, and the reader will recommend it.

The Betsy Ross of history was a singularly bright and winsome woman, and intensely patriotic. Mr. Hotchkiss’s story has been confined to the romantic days of her early womanhood. The house in which the flag was completed, and in and about which most of the action of the novel takes place, still stands on Arch Street, Philadelphia, and the attempt to preserve it as one of the shrines connected with American history is meeting with deserved success. Mrs. Ross (afterward Mrs. Claypoole) died at the great age of ninety-three, and her remains lie in Mount Moriah Cemetery.

* * * * *

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.