“The money is there—­as he described it—­eight hundred and thirty dollars.  I beg to leave my card with you, in case I can be of any service later on.”

So, he had thought of her—­and kindly—­at the last!  So late!  And yet the lie fanned into life one last spark of tenderness where she had thought all was turned to ashes and dust.  She cried aloud “Rob!  Rob!” She turned, and, upon the ready bosom of her true servitor, diluted her grief in relieving tears.  It is well to think, also, that in the years to follow, the murderer’s falsehood shone like a little star above the grave of love, comforting her, and gaining the forgiveness that is good in itself, whether asked for or no.

Hushed and soothed upon the dark bosom, like a child, by a crooning, babbling sympathy, at last she raised her head—­but the doctor was gone.

[Illustration:  “Will you go in?” (cartoon from The Rolling Stone)]

THE MARQUIS AND MISS SALLY

      [Originally published in Everybody’s Magazine, June, 1903.]

Without knowing it, Old Bill Bascom had the honor of being overtaken by fate the same day with the Marquis of Borodale.

The Marquis lived in Regent Square, London.  Old Bill lived on Limping Doe Creek, Hardeman County, Texas.  The cataclysm that engulfed the Marquis took the form of a bursting bubble known as the Central and South American Mahogany and Caoutchouc Monopoly.  Old Bill’s Nemesis was in the no less perilous shape of a band of civilized Indian cattle thieves from the Territory who ran off his entire herd of four hundred head, and shot old Bill dead as he trailed after them.  To even up the consequences of the two catastrophes, the Marquis, as soon as he found that all he possessed would pay only fifteen shillings on the pound of his indebtedness, shot himself.

Old Bill left a family of six motherless sons and daughters, who found themselves without even a red steer left to eat, or a red cent to buy one with.

The Marquis left one son, a young man, who had come to the States and established a large and well-stocked ranch in the Panhandle of Texas.  When this young man learned the news he mounted his pony and rode to town.  There he placed everything he owned except his horse, saddle, Winchester, and fifteen dollars in his pockets, in the hands of his lawyers, with instructions to sell and forward the proceeds to London to be applied upon the payment of his father’s debts.  Then he mounted his pony and rode southward.

One day, arriving about the same time, but by different trails, two young chaps rode up to the Diamond-Cross ranch, on the Little Piedra, and asked for work.  Both were dressed neatly and sprucely in cowboy costume.  One was a straight-set fellow, with delicate, handsome features, short, brown hair, and smooth face, sunburned to a golden brown.  The other applicant was stouter and broad-shouldered, with fresh, red complexion, somewhat freckled, reddish, curling hair, and a rather plain face, made attractive by laughing eyes and a pleasant mouth.