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pilgrimage to the East； but late events had sobered and altered
me。 That yearning； unsatisfied feeling which we call
〃homesickness〃 began to prey upon my heart； and I resolved to
return to England。
I went back by way of Paris； having settled with the priest that
he should write to me at my banker's there as soon as he could
after Alfred had returned to Wincot。 If I had gone to the East；
the letter would have been forwarded to me。 I wrote to prevent
this； and； on my arrival at Paris； stopped at the banker's before
I went to my hotel。
The moment the letter was put into my hands； the black border on
the envelope told me the worst。 He was dead。
There was but one consolationhe had died calmly； almost
happily； without once referring to those fatal chances which had
wrought the fulfillment of the ancient prophecy。 〃My beloved
pupil；〃 the old priest wrote； 〃seemed to rally a little the first
few days after his return； but he gained no real strength； and
soon suffered a slight relapse of fever。 After this he sank
gradually and gently day by day； and so departed from us on the
last dread journey。 Miss Elmslie （who knows that I am writing
this） desires me to express her deep and lasting gratitude for
all your kindness to Alfred。 She told me when we brought him back
that she had waited for him as his promised wife； and that she
would nurse him now as a wife should； and she never left him。 his
face was turned toward her； his hand was clasped in hers when he
died。 It will console you to know that he never mentioned events
at Naples； or the shipwreck that followed them； from the day of
his return to the day of his death。〃
Three days after reading the letter I was at Wincot； and heard
all the details of Alfred's last moments from the priest。 I felt
a shock which it would not be very easy for me to analyze or
explain when I heard that he had been buried； at his own desire；
in the fatal Abbey vault。
The priest took me down to see the placea grim； cold；
subterranean building； with a low roof； supported on heavy Saxon
arches。 Narrow niches； with the ends only of coffins visible
within them； ran down each side of the vault。 The nails and
silver ornaments flashed here and there as my companion moved
past them with a lamp in his hand。 At the lower end of the place
he stopped； pointed to a niche； and said； 〃He lies there； between
his father and mother。〃 I looked a little further on； and saw
what appeared at first like a long dark tunnel。 〃That is only an
empty niche；〃 said the priest； following me。 〃If the body of Mr。
Stephen Monkton had been brought to Wincot； his coffin would have
been placed there。〃
A chill came over me； and a sense of dread which I am ashamed of
having felt now； but which I could not combat then。 The blessed
light of day was pouring down gayly at the other end of the vault
through the open door。 I turned my back on the empty niche； and
hurried into the sunlight and the fresh air。
As I walked across the grass glade leading down to the vault； I
heard the rustle of a woman's dress behind me； and turning round；
saw a young lady advancing； clad in deep mourning。 Her sweet； sad
face； her manner as she held out her hand； told me who it was in
an instant。
〃I heard that you were here；〃 she said； 〃and I wished〃 Her
voice faltered a little。 My heart ached as I saw how her lip
trembled； but before I could say anything she recovered herself
and went on： 〃I wished to take your hand； and thank you for your
brotherly kindness to Alfred； and I wanted to tell you that I am
sure in all you did you acted tenderly and considerately for the
best。 Perhaps you may be soon going away from home again； and we
may not meet any more。 I shall never； never forget that you were
kind to him when he wanted a friend； and that you have the
greatest claim of any one on earth to be gratefully remembered in
my thoughts as long as I live。〃
The inexpressible tenderness of her voice； trembling a little all
the while she spoke； the pale beauty of her face； the artless
candor in her sad； quiet eyes； so affected me that I could not
trust myself to answer her at first except by gesture。 Before I
recovered my voice she had given me her hand once more and had
left me。
I never saw her again。 The chances and changes of life kept us
apart。 When I last heard of her； years and years ago； she was
faithful to the memory of the dead； and was Ada Elmslie still for
Alfred Monkton's sake。
THE FIFTH DAY。
STILL cloudy； but no rain to keep our young lady indoors。 The
paper； as usual； without interest to _me_。
To…day Owen actually vanquished his difficulties and finished his
story。 I numbered it Eight； and threw the corresponding number
（as I had done the day before in Morgan's case） into the china
bowl。
Although I could discover no direct evidence against her； I
strongly suspected The Queen of Hearts of tampering with the lots
on the fifth evening； to irritate Morgan by making it his turn to
read again； after the shortest possible interval of repose。
However that might be； the number drawn was certainly Seven； and
the story to be read was consequently the story which my brother
had finished only two days before。
If I had not known that it was part of Morgan's character always
to do exactly the reverse of what might be expected from him； I
should have been surprised at the extraordinary docility he
exhibited the moment his manuscript was placed i n his hands。
〃My turn again？〃 he said。 〃How very satisfactory！ I was anxious
to escape from this absurd position of mine as soon as possible；
and here is the opportunity most considerately put into my hands。
Look out； all of you！ I won't waste another moment。 I mean to
begin instantly。〃
〃Do tell me；〃 interposed Jessie； mischievously； 〃shall I be very
much interested to…night'？'
〃Not you！〃 retorted Morgan。 〃You will be very much frightened
instead。 You hair is uncommonly smooth at the present moment； but
it will be all standing on end before I've done。 Don't blame me；
miss； if you are an object when you go to bed to…night！〃
With this curious introductory speech he began to read。 I was
obliged to interrupt him to say the few words of explanation
which the story needed。
〃Before my brother begins；〃 I said； 〃it may be as well to mention
that he is himself the doctor who is supposed to relate this
narrative。 The events happened at a time of his life when he had
left London； and had established himself in medical practice in
one of our large northern towns。〃
With that brief explanation； I apologized for interrupting the
reader； and Morgan began once more。
BROTHER MORGAN'S STORY
of
THE DEAD HAND
WHEN this present nineteenth century was younger by a good many
years than it is now； a certain friend of mine； named Arthur
Holliday； happened to arrive in the town of Doncaster exactly in
the middle of the race…week； or； in other words； in the middle of
the month of September。
He was one of those reckless； rattle…pated； open…hearted； and
open…mouthed young gentlemen who possess the gift of familiarity
in its highest perfection； and who scramble carelessly along the
journey of life； making friends； as the phrase is； wherever they
go。 His father was a rich manufacturer； and had bought landed
property enough in one of the midland counties to make all the
born squires in his neighborhood thoroughly envious of him。
Arthur was his only son； possessor in prospect of the great
estate and the great business after his father's death； well
supplied with money； and not too rigidly looked after during his
father's lifetime。 Report； or scandal； whichever you please； said
that the old gentleman had been rather wild in his youthful days；
and that； unlike most parents； he was not disposed to be
violently indignant when he found that his son took after him。
This may be true or not。 I myself only knew the elder Mr。
Holliday when he was getting on in years； and then he was as
quiet and as respectable a gentleman as ever I met with。
Well； one September； as I told you； young Arthur comes to
Doncaster； having decided all of a sudden； in his hare…brained
way； that he would go to the races。 He did not reach the town
till toward the close of evening； and he went at once to see
about his dinner and bed at the principal hotel。 Dinner they were
ready enough to give him； but as for a bed； they laughed when he
mentioned it。 In the race…week at Doncaster it is no uncommon
thing for visitors who have not bespoken apartments to pass the
night in their carriages at the inn doors。 As for the lower sort
of strangers； I myself have often seen them； at that full time；
sleeping out on the doorsteps for want of a covered place to
creep under。 Rich as he was； Arthur's chance of getting a night's
lodging （seeing that he had not written beforehand to secure one）
was more than doubtful。 He tried the second hotel； and the third
hotel； and two of the inferior inns after that； and was met
everywhere with the same form of answer。 No accommodation for the
night of any sort was left。 All the bright golden sovereigns in
his pocket would not buy him a bed at Doncaster in the race…week。
To a young fellow of A