TMs story was written by Wilkie CotHne
wllaboration, with Charles Dickens. It is a story
icHirfc hatt o» immediate success and is on* of
the curiosities of literature <n that the careful
end discerning reader oan discover at each stage
of the progress of the story where Collins leaves
off and Dickens begins. Both Wilkie ColUns and
Charles Dickens had the spark of literary genius.
)tut the spark of Dickens's genius im» so soon
kindled into a fire that its flame polefl the more
feeble one of Collins. The first part of the stnry—
the ""itwrtw*," as Dickens. t rith his inclination
for the stage, called it —ro s 1 criitrn entirely by
the greater mao. Also Dickens irrote entirely
wllot he teas pleased to call the "TMnf Act.''
The rest of the work «ni olmosf entirely the
ioorlt of Wilkie Collins. Why tKr story should
have been called "Kt> Thoroughfare" is a mystery.
It teas li« name Dickens par* it and tokm Disk
on* got a good name for a story he used Cf- -no
matter to ichat sort of a story he attached It.
Also the story 1 oos pubHehod as one of
Christmas stories—though the word (Vrrtstmas
does not appear it the tale nor is the groat Ohrist
mas festival mentioned. When Dickens tmu on M*
second visit to America the "Cote" Me. OolHns
changed the whole story «w into a play—and a
wry successful one, too. As a matter of fact the
story ef So Thoroughfare" woe ok attempt on
the part of Dickens to note* the public taste, and
It had an idea that Collins oouM help him do it.
JHrkens tod no* a rory high idea of the reading
puttie — bat he caterer l te it. The "many headed"
«Moh Thaokeray styles "This great, stupid
public" was ne\<er a negligible qiiaeMi' 1 cith Mr.
Dickens. He remembered alios) re the sting of M«
early dove of poverty in the forking shop and
Mssd appreciation. Its mid not say with Field
ing, with the blood of the Hapsburgs in Ms tw(n»,
«iV» one oi Hi stories hod beoome popular.
"Damn it! they hare found it out. roo." A'ltifr
thsless, perhaps the Hapsburg vnu, <* Wi heart.
as "tickled" at the reeeption of "Tom Jones" as
<mi Dickens by the public approval which he
openly solicited for his works.
THE cloaks of London were striking
10. The night was fair, with light
clouds. Near the gate of the
Foundling Hospital a veiled woman flutters
up and down. The gate of the Foundlings
opens and a young woman comes out.
TOe veiled woman follows her and at last
touchea her upon the shoulder. The young
woman looks around, startled, and says:
"Why do Ton touch me? You touched me
last night. Why do you follow me like a
tfhost?" "You are one of the nurses at
the hospital?" "Yes, I am Sally." "There's
something about your face which makes
me think that young children would take
kindly to you." "They do, God bless them."
The veiled woman lifts her veil and
■hows a face no older than Sally's as she
says: "I am the miserable mother of a
baby lately received under your care. I
have a pray««r to make to you— what is the
Mire they have given my boy? He was
received last Monday evening—what have
they called him?" Then she dropped on
her knees In the mud of the street and
held out her hands beseechingly. Sally
•wias overcome with emotion, and at last,
upon the woman swearing that she would
never make any bad uss of the knowledge,
Bally violated a rule of the hospital and
•aid, "Walter Wilding." Then she contin
ued: "But I can be of no use to you fur
ther. for I am to be married soon and
*h»ll leave the Foundlings. God be raer
etful to you, poor lady." The two then
separated forever.
Twelve vaars Uter, on the flnst Sunday
of Oatober, the Foundlings were at dinner
»nd there were numerous lookers-on. as the
custom is, of ofFdals and of people de
sirous of adopting a child. The veiled lady
of twelve years before was among the
lookers-on; she had come to adopt a child.
Talking with a female attendant sne
aaked many questions and at las; said:
"Which (a Walter Wilding?" "Against the
roVes," replied the attendant. But sn•
sees the Intense Interest in the face ot
the woman who has asked the question,
and it last says:
"I will not tell you. But I will walk
•found the tables. Follow me wfth your
trf. The boy that I touch wtll be Walter
Wilding. Say nothing more to me and
move a little away."
Thus It came about that Walter Wild
ing, the foundling, was adopted By a
wealthy lady, who brought him up as her
son. Pn faoi, when he was a lrttle older,
she confided to him that ha really was her
son and that it was because of this that
she had taken him from the Foundlings.
T'pon the est of the story her lips were
sealed, and the boy—who loved her de
votedly as she loved him—never tried to
pry further into her sorrowful past
When Walter Wilding was 38 years old
his beloved mother died, and he found
himself possessed 0 f an ample fortune
and the proprietor of the great house of
Wilding A Co., wine merchants. Crlpiple
Corner. All Cripple Corner belonged to
Wildin* ft Co., wine merchants. Their
cellars burrowed under it and their man
sion towered above It. It really had been
a mans'on In the days when merchants
inhabited the olty, and was a most gloomy,
respectable and imposing build ng still.
Walter and his mother had lived there
before her death, and now he lived there
alone.
"When * man at flve-and-twenty ran
put hi* hat on and »ay. Thl« hat cover*
the owner of thli property and the owur
of the bu*lnee« transacted in thl* c-r>p
»rty,' I eon*Wer, Mr, Ulntry, that, without
b*ln< boftatful, he may be allowed to be
deeply thankful. I do not know how It
mar appear to jrou, but 10 It appear* to
me," Thu* Mr, Walter Wtld na to hu
man at law in hit own oountln# houn*.
An lnaeoaot, unueed-lookin* mas w«u Mr.
NO THOROUGHFARE a •«*».
Iff WILKIE COLLIN/" AND CHARLE/ DICKENX ®
Walter Wilding, with a remarlcable pink
and white completion and a figure much
too bulky for so young a man: with
crispy brown hair and amiable blue eyes.
Mr. Blntrey, on the contrary, was a
cautious man with twinkling beads of
eyes. "I think we have got everyth'ng
straight." continued Walter, with a child
ish enjoyment In the discussion of busi
ness affairs. "Everything is straight," re
plied the lawyer. "A partner secured and
a housekeeper advertised for," said Wild
ing.
Then Walter disclosed to Mr. Blntrey a
plan he had for having all his employes
live, or at least take their meals, under that
one roof—the house was b!g enough. He
would have a sort of community settle
ment, and they would all be taught music
and Hinging and play together as well as
work together. And from them should be
established a choir In the neighboring
chapel. Mr. Blntrey bowed and took an
other glass of wine. Ecoentricitles on the
part of wealthy clients he was accustomed
to take as a matter of course.
As soon as Mr. Blntrey was gone there
came in old Joey Ladle, the ancient head
cellarman of the house. A sort of dray
horse man was Joey. Walter explained
his plan for a happy family to him. "Don't
look to me to do it, young Master Wild
ing," said Joey mournfully, "not at my
time of life. Many a time when they have
said to me 'put a livelier face upon It,
.Toey." T have replied, 'Gentlemen, ifs all
very well for you that la accustomed to
take your wine into your systems by the
conwlvial channels of your throttles to put
a lively far-e upon It, but.' I says, 'I have
been accustomed to take my wine through
the pores of my sk'n by reason of exist
ing so long a time In them there mouldy
wine vaults, where the vapors Is, and,
taken in that way, It acts depressing,"
Walter soothed the always d'sgruntled but
always faithful old fellow, and Joey
agreed to "take a peck," as he called It,
at the common table —but Join In any sing
ing class he would not. "And you are a
golng to take young Master George Ven
dale Into partnership, I hear," said Joey.
"I am." "Well and good. But ' don't
change the name again. It wa« risky,
mighty r'sky. when you changed the old
firm name of Pebbleson Nephew to Your
self Xr Co. Good luck always stuck to
Pebbleson Nephew. You should never
change luck when It's good." "I have
no Intention of changing the firm name
again," said Walter—and Joey, with a
sigh and mournful shako of the head,
■withdrew to his dreary, moldy, damp
■wine vaults In the depths of the earth.
From the many applicants for the posi
tion of housekeeper Wilding selected a
Mrs. Sarah Goldstraw She was a woman
of pernaps 60 and looked e\ en younger,
with a face remarkbh'n for placid cheer
fulness. She was a widow of some years'
standing. She hsd ':T«d as housekeeper
with only one person «Inc« her husband's
decease—a widow 1 ft/1 v wh- bad recently
died. She, ,lnd, the bqst of references.
When the Housekeeper af;e- her arrival
went to the dinlhg room t.i receive in
structions from her master Walter paused
in giving them to say: "There is some
thing about your manner. Mrs. Goldstraw,
which Is familiar. What oan It be?"
Mrs. Goldstraw's e>es were fixed In won
der upon a picture <*f Walter's mother
which hung over tha mantelpiece, and she
repeated, as If In a dream. "What can It
he?" "My mother when she was five and
twenty," said Walter proudly. "A very
beautiful woman." "Excuse me," said
Walter, "hut did you ever occupy any
other situation than thut of hor«ekeeper?"
"Yes: before my mairHge I wfw a nurse
In a foundling asylum." "That's It! that's
it!" cried Wa'ter; "their manner Is the
manner you remind me of."
Then he went on to tell, In his frank
and voluble way, the story of his life rs
far as he knew It. The housekeeper lis
tened 'n evident distress of mind, espe
cially when he told how one of the at
tendants had Identified him by touching
him on tho shoulder «o that his mother
should know Mm. Finally she sat looking
at him with a face as pale as death and
an expression of unutterable dismay.
"What does thlß mean?" said Walter.
"Tell me. There Is something I ought to
know and do not know Tell me!"
With tears and lamentations that she
should have been, although Innocently,
the cause or a terrible mistake, Sally
tolfl her story. For Mrs. Sarah Gold
straw was that Sal!j- whom we first saw
on the night she was touched by the
veiled lady upon Issuing from the Found -
11n«: Hospital Shortly after Sally had
told the veiled lady the name of her child
there came to the foundlings' institu
tion !n the country another lady who
wished to adopt one of the children. She
adopted and took away with her the boy
called Walter Wilding. "The child of
the lady whose portrait hangs here." said
Sally. Soon after there was another in
fant boy to be named, and the name
Walter Wilding having been scratched
off the books of th» 'nstltutlon that name
was given to another hoy. Sally then
left the Inet'tutlon to be married.
It was the second Walter Wilding who
had been touched on the shoulder by the
attendant and been adopted as her own
sor. by Walter's supposed mother. Saily
knew nothing of the woman who had
adopted the true Walter Wilding and
only remembered that she had said:
"Tha child will be brought up In a milder
ollma/te than this. I am going to tak->
him to Switzerland. Walter felt the room
swim before him—"My head! my head!''
be cried out and became half uncon
scious,
The alarmed housekeeper at length re
*tor«d him to hlmeelf with a ffl&ia of
wine ar.<l by bathln* hi* head with water
"Why »hould you dl»tre*« yourself?" *ald
she, "ha may not bo now alive and oan
nut be In want, for the woman who
adopted him wan evidently a woman of
wealth, you truly loved the woman
whone portrait hung* there a* your
mothw and «b« loved you a* her »nn,"
"Ah, It 1* because I did love her that I
feel l( a aaored duty to do justice to her
son; leave me for a little while Mrs.
Goldstraw." .
George Vecdaie, Walter's new partner,
came in and Walter, after sending for Mr.
Blntrey, told them the whole story. To all
their objections Walter only answered that
he must at once begin inquiries and if
he could find the true Walter Wilding he
would hand over to him his property. In
case he could not he then and there or
dered Mr. Blntrey to draw up a will by
which he left to Blntrey and Vendale all
his property to be held by them for two
years In trust for the true Walter, should
he appear. Should he not be found at the
expiration of two years then, after Wal
ter's death, the estate would go to the
Foundling Hospital.
Even while Walter had been talking with
Vendale and the lawyer a letter bearing a
Swiss postmark had been handed In by
a clerk. The coincidence, as Walter thought
of a Swiss postmark and what Sally had
told him of the true Walter being taken
to Switzerland still further agitated the
wine merchant. The letter was only a
formal one from a champagne house of
Neuohatel, with which the firm dealt, In
forming them that they had made M.Jules
Obenreizer their agent in London. Mrv
Vendale. the new partner, would know M.
Obonrelzer, as he had met him when trav
eling In Switzerland. "Oh. yes," said Ven
dale, slightly agitated In his turn, "he was
traveling with his niece—Obenreizer was.
This is duly signed by the house of Du
freniler. Very well, I will make It a point
to see this M. Obenrelzer."
"Walter's attempt to find the true Wal
ter resulted only In this: that on March
8. 1836, there had been adopted and re
moved from the hospital a male infant
named Walter Wilding. Mrs. Jane Mil
ler, a widow, hnci adopted him. Address.
Lime Tree Lodge, Groombrldge Wells.
References, the Hey. John llarker,
Groombrldge Wells and Messrs. Giles.
Jeremle & Giles, bankers, Lombard
street. He went to the bankers and
found that the account of Mrs. Miller
had been closed for years and nothing
was known of her. fie Journeyed to
Groombrldge Wells and found that the
Rev. John Harker had been eaten up hy
cannlba.s years and years ago when he
was serving as a missionary In the South
Sea Islands. Lime Tree Lodge had been
torn down ten years before and nobody
knew anything about the Mrs. MHler who
had been a temporary lessee. He had
reached a "No thoroughfare" stage of
his Journey. There was nothing further
to be done. He want back to London de
feated at all points
While Walter was pursuing these In
vestigations his partner, George Vendale,
had been almost. If not quite, as anxious
ly pursuing his Investigations In the
region of Soho, where dwelt a curious
colony of transplanted Swiss moun
taineers and where M. Obonrelser had
his dwelling and his office. Hverythlng
was Swiss about the district and It was
Into a Swiss Interior, with Its tiled stove
and Its ourlous clocks and vases of art!-
flolal flowers, that George was ushered
when he sent In his card, George stood
looking at the mlmle water dripping
from a mlmlo mill-wheel under th« oloek
HIS ROOT 9!,IFPEI>—HE WAS OVER A PRECIPICE.
after the servant had ushered him In
when M. Obenreizer at his elbow startled
him by saying in very good English, very
slightly clipped: "How do you do? So
glad." (At the same time slightly pin
ning him at the elbows by way of em
brace.! "Sit please."
"Is it not odd," said George, "that I
should come to you here in London as
one of the firm of Wilding & Co. to pay
my re«peots to you?" t "Not at all," re
turned Obenreizer. "What did I always
say to you in the mountains? We call
them vast, but the world is so little! So
little is the world that one cannot get rid
of a person. Not"—touching his elbows
again with an Ingratiatory smile—"that
one would desire to get rid of you." "I
hope not, M. Obenrelzer." "Pray call me
Mister. I call myself so—for I love your
country. Oh, If I could only be English!"
And so they talked on. Obenrelzer des
canting at great length upon the fact
that he himself was the son of a poor
peasant and Vendale the son of a fitutle
man. There was no detail o? his early
and squalid life that Obenreizer did not
bring out in its most glaring and fre
quently loathsome details and contrast It
with some detail of the eai iy life of Ven
dale. "1 told you of most of this that
day we were floating on tile iake," said
the Swis«>, "and you told me nf the lux
uries which surrounded your early youth.
Ah, what a condescension It Is for one of
your family to go Into trade! Stop, t.iough
—wines? Is it a trade ! n England, or a
profession, or a fine art?"
George, rather put out of countenance,
replied that when h# had met Mr. Oben
relzer In Switzerland some years before
he had been young and foolish. That he
feared he had boasted, as most young men
will, of his family. He was a silly fel
low, just of age. And then suddenly: "1
hope your nlec-e, mademoiselle, is well?"
"Well," replied Obenreizer, "and for her
sake, ] believe, you were once in some
slight danger when we were mountain
climbing."
Mr. Obenreizer had a. singular faculty of
sending at limes a sort of film over his
eyes which would Impenetrably veil not
only from those tellers of tales but from
h. s whole face every expression except
t'.iat of attention. Thai fiim came over
them now. "Tour niece is !n London?"
"She is In London." "When and where
may I have the pleasure of recalling my
self to her?" The film vanished and Oben
reizer said In a frank manner, "Come up
stairs." They went upstairs, and there
sat the giri who, ever since he had res
cued her from the glacier, ever since he
had floated with her upon the lake, had
been In his thoughts and In his heart-
Marguerite Obenreizer.
There was an elderly lady seated by the
stove cleaning gloves, of which 'ahe had
her lap full. She hud one glove stretched
over one hand like a glover's sign. She
was Introduced to Vendixle as Mme. Dor,
"who la so kind us to keep me from tear
or »taln." Mme, Dor half got up, looked
over her shoulder and plumped down
**aln, rubbing vigorously at A particular
ly tough spot, It would apper.r, In M.
Obenteltstr's plov*. Marguerite wa-i u«:«d
by the window busy with an embroUUrw
frame. She greeted her old acquaintance
with Just a little of shyness, yet with a
charming self-possession. She had an un
usual quantity of fair, bright hair, very
prettily braided about a rather round
white, broad forehead. And so her face
might have been, say, a shade rounder
than the average English face, and her
figure slightly rounder than the avera ;e
English girl of 19. A remarkable Indica
tion of freedom and grace of limb In her
quiet attitude, and a wonderful purity and
freshness of color In her dimpled face and
bright gray eyes seemed fraught with
mountain air.
j Thus did George Vendale renew his ao
! qualntance with M. and Mile. Obenreizer.
; "An impossible name—Obenreizer," said
: Walter Wilding. But George did not think
| so—he rather 1 ked the sound of It. Van
j dale became a constant visitor at the
! Obenreizer establishment, and Induced
I Wilding to Invite Marguerite, her fa.her
| and Mme. Dor to dinner at Cripple Cor
ner. Walter tvad established his com
| niunity household and singing school, and
| after dinner Marguerite played and sang
; d vlnely. At least so thought George, and
that soured and crabbed old cellarer. Joey
Joey becaine—in a far off, gruff
way—as much devoted to Marguerite as
was George. And Joey saw at once how
the land lay and resolved that come what
might George and Marguerite should be
married. Old Obenre zcr he Instinctively
feared and hated. As for Walter Wilding,
this earth v.-as to have little more of Joy
or sorrow for him. He had for years been
subject to a sort of epilepsy, and the dis
closures of .Sally and his subsequent fail
ure to find the true Walter—his real zaitlon
all the time that he wa» In a state of No
Thoroughfare, preyed upon him. and after
a few 'months he took to his bed and died.
And so exit Walter Wilding of Wilding
&■ C*.
George Venda'c continued the wine bust
ae.se. Ho and Mr Binirey qqietly carried
on a search for the true Walter \Vi'din„,
as they htj promised their deaj partner
and friend they would. Venda e carried
on also the comnurclstc tcheme whloß
liad been devised by Walter, and probably
not the lean willingly because of the tact
that the propose! choir had been M ID
ltshed in the ne.ghbnrln#: chapel and that
Marguerite had volunteered as orte of the
choristers. Ge->r*e was a constant v'jrltcr
at the ObenrelzerV house, but could neve:
get an opportunity of seeing Msrguerite
alone. At last the day came when Mme.
Dor went to sle*-> over her knltt.ng and.
the dragon belntf <-ff guard. Geirge fad
what he had been waiting so long to say.
Suffice i: *ha: when madame woke up
with a start Georg*. knew th?! Ma-gve
r'.te returned his love. Now he made a
visit of firm upon Obenrelzer. "W.iat!"
said Ober.rs'ier, "you have made a pro
posal to my nle.'e without flr»: asking riy
authority -o pav your addresses to ftfr/
How can /ou juitfy this?" He struck
hla hand acainit the table and lo«' hi*
h<M<J of himself for the first .lrr.e In Ve--
da'e's expe.-'ense of h'm. "I can only ju«-
tlfy !t &• one of our English Institution*—
you adm!-e the English institutions,"
The result of a ion# talk, beg;nn.r.g
acrimoniously and ending suavely, was
that the a wlss mft-chant gave feeorge a
written agreement that when Ve-diie's
Income sho\ild amount to £3.000 a year
all objections on Obfn:e!zer's part to tne
proposed marriage would be withdrawn,
in the meantime, George was to see Mar
guerite—guarded by Maie Dor—upon cer
tain days.
When George took hold of his business
the next morning It had a different face
for him—Marguerite had a place in It
now. He set the wheels of commerce
spinning and saw his way clear—as ho
thought. Then came a letter from De
fresnler & Co., the Neuchate] wine people,
in which It was made apparent that they
had not been paid for their lant consign
ment. George looked up his receipts and
found that he held one from that firm for
the said consignment. The result of some
further correspondence was that the Neu
chatel firm wrote George that the money
sent by him had unquestionably been stolen
In transit and the receipt had been forged.
The matter, they said, was one of vital
Importance to both houses, though, ap
parently of trifling importance. They
begged that George would tell no one but
send, by a trueted messenger, the receipt
In question—not even trusting it to the
post.
In the meantime George had incautiously
—being In love—let escape from him to
Obenreizer the fact that there was some
trouble about a receipted bill due to the
Neuchatel Arm. "Surely," thought George,
"they cannot mean that T should conceal
entirely from Obemelzer, their trusted
agent, the fact that something Is wrong."
Still he managed to prevent h'mself from
being "pumped" further hy hl« prospective
uncle-In-iaw. Net being able to decide
upon a really trustworthy messenger,
Vendale decided to go himself to Neu
chatel.
"What, golr.g to Switzerland!" cried
Obenrelzer, "how fortunate. T am on a
Journey there myself. We will travel to
gether.'' It was a sacrifice for Vendale to
leave his business and a greater sacrifice
to leave Marguerite. But a matter of five
hundred pounds was Involved, and did
he not want to get rich as quickly as he
could? When Vendale took leave of Mar
guerite her last words to him were,
"I>on't go."
Of course It is one of those obvious
things of really good Action, which does
not entirely depend upon unforeseen de
nouements, that Obenrelzer himself was
the man who had forged the receipt. That
the foolish boasting of young Vendale
when he had met him in Switzerland had
aroused in Obenrelzer a hatred for
George. And, more than that, Oben
relzer loved only one person In
the world except himself, and that
was his niece. When he saw that
George had come between him and his
•ilece—that she no longer looked to her
uncle with that implicit faith and confl
uence with which she had heretofore, his
rege against Vendale was redoubled. He
hated the yiung man anyway, and, In
addition, held that resentment which every
parent—for Obenrelzer looked upon Mar
guerite as his daughter—feels when some
body comes to claim them for their own,
dlvid'ng affe tlons and severing ties never
:nore to bo reun'ted ent'rely.
Obenre zer had given his consent to the
marriage of Marguerite and George when
Vendale's income sht uld have reached a
certain amount. He had resolved that
the young man never should obtain that
amount of Income He had laid a plan
by which he thought he could ruin Ven
dale and at the same time enrich him
*•!'. But for the mis'ake of the Noucha
;el firm in ship: 'ng some red wne in
place of chamna ne which opened up a
direct correspondence between the Neueha
tcl house and Wilding & Co. and led to
the forced rece pt bus ness, the plot would
not have been discovered. Three months
: more would have seen it In full operation
and Veridale would have been ruined. Tt
was a complicated plot, .skillfully thought
out, fhe details of wh'ch can not be told
! lti a short space.
9ufHce it that Obenrelzer, comprehend
ing at once from the incautious words of
George that his plot had failed and that
he himself was In danger, accompanied
George to Switzerland with the sole pur
pose of getting from him the forged re
ceipt—and if necessary killing him ro get
it. Perhaps he would kill him anyway—
If he could do so safely, he thought.
"Where shall I rob him if I can? Where
shall I mnrder him if ! must?" was the
constant thought of Obenreizer ' on the
journey. He knew that George carried
the Incriminating papers in an inner
breast pocket. Several times he tried to
drug him and rob him—once or twice ar
ranged tor murder—but failed. At last
the two came to Neuehatel and found
that the senior member of the firm—the
man whom George must see—was In
M lan.
It was winter and the pass.nre of the
Alps was so dangnrous that th"> guides
refused to take the,traveler.-; across in the
j weather then prevailing. But Obenrclzer
declared that the guides w re cowards
he was born In he mountains, knew the
passes, and since George Insisted upon go
ing at once to M'lan. why he himself
would guide him through. He brought
V«ndale to a remote and wild snow-cov
ered pass where impending avalanche*
j hung ready to tumble abou- their heads.
. Obfnrelzer urged hlrh to take a drink of
brandy from his flask George lid so and
at once felt that the brandy wi.« dragged.
I In his half-conscious condl ion Obenrelzcr
fiercely attacked him. George tr'ed to
strvggle ana to keep his companion from
tearing from him the papdr* His foot
nipped-—he wan over npr clpice.
The mountain st-rm riged and pars-d
«galn, Two men n-1 two iar*e d "?s ec.me
out of a hospice One of the men raid to
[the other, "We may venture now." The
I I wo dig* Innlc-d Into the faeeii of the men
and then, turning their muzzles down the
pass, broke Into a deen bay and bound<
away. "Two more mad ones," said one
the men The two other mad one? h:
been Oeorge and Obenrelzer, who had v«i
tured forth in tlie face of the storr
They found a young woman struggllr
througli the snow .md with her a large, t
derly man. The yoiig woman spoke th«
own language. She was Marguerite ai
the large man with her was the faithf
Joey Ladle.
After the departure of Obenrelier at
Vcndale from London Marguerite's appr
hensions had so grown upon her that si
took counse. with the faithful cellarer at
It was decided that the two should at on
set out in pursuit of the travelers and, 1
their presence, foil the plot which thi
were sure Obenre'.zer had laid again
Oeorge. They had traced them to Ne
chatel and from there to the hospice. Ma
guerite, a daughter of the mountains, ha
In spite of the inclement weather, less d!
Acuity In traveling than old Joey, wh
unused to mountain altitudes, took eve
step with pain. From the men who hi
come from the hospice with the dogs thi
'earned that the two travelers they soug
had gone on and the men, fearing f
the'r safety, were now setting out
search of them.
They found the place where the strut?*
between Obenre'zer and Verdale had taVi
place—the trampled snow told the ta
Looking over the edge of the precip!<
they saw the apparently dead body
George hang'ng upon a projecting point
Ice and snow. Marguerite Insisted upi
being lowered down to where the boi
lay. This was done and. while one of t
men ran back 'o the hospice for anoth
rope she warmed the Inanimate form
her lover In her arms and forced hetwei
his lips some revving drops of brand
call'ne out to those above that he «t
lived. Finally they drew up both Genr
and Margtier'te safely ta the roadway
the pass. Rut when they had got Geor
up there wa< scarcely a flutter to 1
heart and It was reported In the near?
town the next day that the Knglish t>-a
ler who hid fallen over the precipice w
dead. .
Obenrelzer returned to Neuohatel ai
made loud lamentations over the fatal a
cldent which had deprived him forever
the companionship of his beloved frlei
and protective nephew. But the firm
Defrosnier thought the whole matter hi
an ugly look and discharged him. Ms
guerite refused to return to him and. wl
Madame Dor, took refuge with Mr Bl
trey. Obenrelzer, at Neuehatcl. asked e:
ployment of a former friend of his, a la
yer named Volgt. While there he d
covered In one of the lawyer's old boxj
some papers which made it certain th
George Vend ale was th" true Walter Wll
ItiK. But before he could put his know
edpe to any harmful i.se there came
Neucliatel Mr. Bintrev and had a few en
fldential words with Maltre Volgt. T1
old lawyer opened hl« eyes wide with su
priso and looked at Obenrelzer with «ul
oi's expression "when he next saw him.
A few days after, .it the foot of t
Simnlon on the Swiss side, in a drea
little inn in the 'mill village of Rr«
Maitrle Voigt and Mr. Bintrey sat t
gether in consultation. The door ODPI
and Obenrelzer came in. "For what rf
son have I been brought from Neucha'
to the foot of these mountains?" he askt
Mr Bintrey mentioned the question
Marertier'te'n guardianship. Obenreizer s8
there could be no com promise—he w
determ'ne«J that his ward should be i
'tored to him "Ldstea to me." sai.l Bi
trey, and he recounted all that had ha
rened "ince Obenreizer and George h
le't London together. "Bah." said Obe
rclzer, "do not think to frighten me wi
your child's story." "It is not a chili
tale I am telling you," replied Blntri
"This Is a trap which I have set for v
and into which you have-walked. You ha'
attempted tr.iirder and you have commit*
forgery and theft. We have the eviden
against you in both ca^es."
Obenreizer was convinced that Bintr
spoke tile truth. The lawyer produced
paper and said: "If you will «l~ n tl
paper releasing all clalme to the guardla
ship of Miss Obenreizer we will give y
:ii return an Indemnity which secures yi
asrainst further proceedings on our pa
But you must never be seen in I.ondi
or Switzerland again." Obenreizer toi
the pen and signed hi* naine with a fir
hand. The door opened and In came Ma
guerite and George—who. of course, w
not dead. The shock of seeing alive tl
man whom he had supposed he had kllli
was too grea: for even Obenreizer to stai
without a nervous shudder.
He stared at the two blankly for a ml
ute, and then Raid: "Ah, I «ee it was i
deed a trap But I have eometh'ng
s ay." And then he told of the papers
the strong box of Maltre Voigt. papers
which he had made copies, which prov
that George Vendaie was the true Walt
Wilding. "So,' said he. "If my niece ma
rrt this man flip marries a bastar
brought up on public charity. She ma
r.cs an impostor without name or Uncap
disguised in the character of a gentlem;
of rank and family."
The words of Obenreizer, howev<
were scarcely heard by George: he w
conscious of but one sensation, heard b
one voice. Marguerite's hand was In h
and Marguerite's voice was whlsperi!
to him: "T never loved you George as
love you now." They were married
the little town of Brieg and the simp
villagers made ho.lday and put up grei
arches In their honor As the wedd i
procession wi' returning from the ehuri
to the Inn there came out of a side atre
another process'on—men hearing a tltt
on which lt»y a doad body. It was tl
body of Ohonrezer In attempting
cross tie fllr.iplon an avalanche hi
fallen upon and killed him