“These crimes I committed for love of this man.  I had been his wife for five years, and for three of them I did not know he had another.

“And when I found it out, I did not do as this woman did.  I simply loved him more.

“I love him still, and because I love him I tell the truth to save him.  Yes, more, because I love him, I will shed more blood.  He shall not see me imprisoned or condemned to death.  I will spare him that pain.”

As she spoke, she drew a little ornamental dagger from her dress.  It was a mere toy.  Nobody would have supposed it to be a deadly weapon.

However, Nick sprang forward to prevent her from doing herself an injury.

He was too late.  She plunged the dagger into her brain.

So firm and true was her hand that the slender blade pierced the thin bone of her right temple, and was driven in until the hilt made an impression on her white skin like a seal upon wax.

Jones uttered a scream of horror at this sight.  He, too, had attempted to stay her hand, but had been too slow.

As she fell, he plucked the dagger from the wound and attempted to drive it into his own brain.  But Nick caught his arm and wrested the blood-stained weapon from him.

Deprived thus of the means for ending his life, Jones fell upon his knees before the woman and covered her hands with kisses, nor could he be taken away, until the hands were chilled by death.

And that was the strange end of the affair.  The woman’s confession, though it may not have been true, will doubtless save Jones’ life.

At the time of this writing the district attorney is of the opinion that a plea of murder in the second degree had better be accepted.  There is no indication that the prisoner will fight the case.

So Jones will spend his days in prison, though he will escape the death chair.

A word should be added about the witness, Gaspard.  He has been cleared of all reproach, and has sailed for France with his bride.

The end.

NICK CARTER’S GHOST STORY.

CHAPTER I.

The vanishing thief.

Nick Carter’s friends often ask him whether, in the course of his remarkable experience as a detective, he has ever encountered anything which could not have been the work of human hands.

Few people, nowadays, will own that they believe in ghosts.  Yet most of us would be less sure about it in a grave-yard at midnight than on Broadway at noon.

A man who can tell a reasonable story about having seen a ghost may not find many believers, but he will get plenty of listeners, for we are all eager to hear about such things.

So Nick, who always likes to oblige his friends, does not deny the existence of spirits when he is asked whether he ever saw any.  On the contrary, if he has the time to spare, he usually tells the following story: