The American Marquis by Nick Carter — page 180: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

hear. Let us say no more about it.” Aa. saCHRE AUN LN THE AMERICAN wanotra, Peer ans. ee This artist, I think, used his knowledge of this intatua tion to extort money from Alphonse. ) ‘““At any rate, he approached Alphonse one day when ‘ we were talking together on the street, and Alphonse, in 7 some terror and annoyance, as it seemed to 1e, stepped ; aside with him and held a whispered conversation. 7 | © What was said I don’t know, except that the artist, whom I knew by sight, became angry and said, loud enough | for me to hear, on purpose, I think: «You must. Remember the 13th of November, 1865.7 7 “< <«Hush!’ exclaimed Alphonse. ‘I will? ” Grace, who had been growing more and more ghastly every moment, seemed now about to lose consciousness. : a Seeing which, Honore led her to a seat, and said, ten derly: | **There, my darling; I knew this was not fit for you to _ [—I am—am better—now,” she gasped, making a piti- ful effort to recall her strength. ‘¢ Please —go—on. i—l@ think ?’d—better—hear it—all.” ‘“Poor, dear little Grace! Don’t take it too much to heart. It is sad for Alphonse, but we will live here retired from the world, and (4 ““ Yes, dear; yes,” she interrupted, nervously patting his” hand. ““But—but this artist—did you learn his name”. | «JT did, dear. Let me see. Was it Fulton? No, that wasn’t its Clinton? Yes, it was Clinton. No; it was Hastings. That’s it—Clinton Hastings.” | 4 A moan fell from Grace’s white lips. a ‘* Poor fellow!” continued Honore. Just before we came away he was found dead in his bed—poisoned, the papers q said.” y «* Alphonse did it!” shrieked Grace. ee Honore rose to his feet with a look of horror on his face. ; © Jjon’t, Honore! Oh, don’t! Stay with me! Please eR p with me. If you leave me I shall go mad. Iam uno | indeed I am.’ She fell on her knees and clasped her hands supplica- | tingly. a To her excited imagination, it seemed that her husband — | must suspect her. t, a ‘‘Grace, my darling,” he said, as he lifted her up, ‘‘don’ t. so on so. Your wretched brother's misdeeds need not Sea eat gs “) comicbooks.com