In just an hour’s time Lester Armstrong was hurrying along Broadway again, making all haste toward his lodgings.  Suddenly some one tapped him on the shoulder, and a voice which he instantly recognised as his cousin’s said, laughingly: 

“Both bent in the same direction, it seems.  Well, we’ll travel along together to your lodging house, Lester.”

But alas!  Who can see the strange workings of destiny?  In that instant Lester Armstrong slipped on the icy pavement, and Kendale, bending quickly over him, exclaimed: 

“He has broken his neck!  He is dying.  He won’t last five minutes!”

CHAPTER III.

A terrible plot against A helpless young girl.

A gasp of horror broke from Kendale’s lips.  Yes, Lester Armstrong was fatally injured, he could see that.

Glancing up, he saw that they were within a few doors of his lodgings.  Picking him up by main force, he carried him thither at once and placed him upon his couch.  He had expected to see him breathe his last, but to his great surprise Lester Armstrong opened his eyes and whispered his name.

“It is all over with me, Clinton,” he whispered.  “I—­I realize that my fall was fatal, and that it is a question of moments with me, but I—­I cannot die until I have told you all, and you have promised to go quickly to my darling and tell her my sad fate.”

“Any commission you have you may be sure I will execute for you,” replied Kendale, and even while he spoke he was wondering whereabouts in that room Lester Armstrong kept his cash.

Between gasps, his voice growing fainter and fainter with each word, poor Lester told his story, of his love, his wooing and the climax which was to have taken place in two hours’ time.

Kendale listened with bated breath.  To say that he was amazed, dumfounded, scarcely expressed his intense surprise.

Armstrong, his poor plodding cousin, to strike such luck as to be about to marry an heiress!  It seemed like a veritable fairy story.  Who would have thought the poor cashier would have known enough to play for such high stakes?

Almost as soon as Lester Armstrong had uttered the last word, he fell back upon his pillow in a dead faint.

“The end is not far,” muttered Kendale.  “I suppose it would look better to send a call for an ambulance and have him sent to the hospital.”

He acted upon the thought without a moment’s delay, and while the wagon was en route made a quick search of his unfortunate cousin’s apartment, a sardonic smile of triumph lighting his face.  And as he transferred the money to his pocket, a sudden thought rushed through his brain—­a thought that for the instant almost took his breath away.

Like one fascinated, he looked down at the white face.  “I could do it; yes, I am sure I could do it,” he muttered, drawing his breath hard.