Revenge! | Page 6

the other. "I think," said the elder, "that it
is useless to keep you longer in suspense. There is not the slightest
hope of your husband's recovery. He may live for a week or for a
month perhaps, or he may die at any moment."
"I thank you, gentlemen," said Mrs. Forder, with a calmness that
astonished the two men, who knew the state of excitement she had
laboured under for a long time past. "I thank you. I think it is better that
I should know."
All the afternoon she sat by the bedside of her insensible and scarcely
breathing husband. His face was wasted to a shadow from his long
contest with death. The nurse begged permission to leave the room for
a few minutes, and the wife, who had been waiting for this, silently

assented. When the woman had gone, Mrs. Forder, with tears streaming
from her eyes, kissed her husband.
"John," she whispered, "you know and you will understand." She
pressed his face to her bosom, and when his head fell back on the
pillow her husband was smothered.
Mrs. Forder called for the nurse and sent for the doctors, but that which
had happened was only what they had all expected.
* * * * *
To a man in the city jail the news of Forder's death brought a wild thrill
of fear. The terrible and deadly charge of Judge Brent against the
murderer doomed the victim, as every listener in the courthouse
realised as soon as it was finished. The jury were absent but ten
minutes, and the hanging of Walter Radnor did more perhaps than
anything that ever happened in the State to make life within that
commonwealth more secure than it had been before.

A DYNAMITE EXPLOSION
Dupré sat at one of the round tables in the Café Vernon, with a glass of
absinthe before him, which he sipped every now and again. He looked
through the open door, out to the Boulevard, and saw passing back and
forth with the regularity of a pendulum, a uniformed policeman. Dupré
laughed silently as he noticed this evidence of law and order. The Café
Vernon was under the protection of the Government. The class to
which Dupré belonged had sworn that it would blow the café into the
next world, therefore the military-looking policeman walked to and fro
on the pavement to prevent this being done, so that all honest citizens
might see that the Government protects its own. People were arrested
now and then for lingering around the café: they were innocent, of
course, and by-and-by the Government found that out and let them go.
The real criminal seldom acts suspiciously. Most of the arrested
persons were merely attracted by curiosity. "There," said one to another,

"the notorious Hertzog was arrested."
The real criminal goes quietly into the café, and orders his absinthe, as
Dupré had done. And the policeman marches up and down keeping an
eye on the guiltless. So runs the world.
There were few customers in the café, for people feared the vengeance
of Hertzog's friends. They expected some fine day that the cafe would
be blown to atoms, and they preferred to be taking their coffee and
cognac somewhere else when that time came. It was evident that M.
Sonne, the proprietor of the café, had done a poor stroke of business for
himself when he gave information to the police regarding the
whereabouts of Hertzog, notwithstanding the fact that his café became
suddenly the most noted one in the city, and that it now enjoyed the
protection of the Government.
Dupré seldom looked at the proprietor, who sat at the desk, nor at the
waiter, who had helped the week before to overpower Hertzog. He
seemed more intent on watching the minion of the law who paced back
and forth in front of the door, although he once glanced at the other
minion who sat almost out of sight at the back of the cafe, scrutinising
all who came in, especially those who had parcels of any kind. The café
was well guarded, and M. Sonne, at the desk, appeared to be satisfied
with the protection he was receiving.
When customers did come in they seldom sat at the round metal tables,
but went direct to the zinc-covered bar, ordered their fluid and drank it
standing, seeming in a hurry to get away. They nodded to M. Sonne
and were evidently old frequenters of the café who did not wish him to
think they had deserted him in this crisis, nevertheless they all had
engagements that made prompt departure necessary. Dupré smiled
grimly when he noticed this. He was the only man sitting at a table. He
had no fears of being blown up. He knew that his