a: A?) 1 Eli? ' e (4.9m ’r . , u ., I A cu» sum» 1"“ A ‘5 - J" A. ' “I: g , loot. She’s the smartest woman I everfsaw. Etta released herself blushingly, but the praise of her father’s old friend fell very plea— santly upon her care. As she drew back Kate advanced to Ossian, deeply impressed by what he had'said, exclaiming: ' » “ You may kiss me, too, if you like.” “ Thank you, I‘m not particular,” responded Ossian, dryly; and he turned away. “ Oh!” murmured Kate, a little resentful» l . _ , , . y “ Never mind; if he won’t, I will!” cried Ray, roguishly; and he gave her a resounding kiss ' “ 0h!" murmured Kate, again, but not at all resentfully this time. “ What’s the matter? Did it hurt you?” in— uired Bay, with mock concern. , . “ Oh, no; but I think you are rather freeon short acquaintance.” l ' A hearty laugh from the rest followed, and then Bartyne said: “ Now we must get thingsin shape. Ossian. you summon your colored aid, and let her show the girls to their room. Let her take the1r trunk up. ” , , “ I’ll do that I” cried Ray. Ossian fastened his gray eyes keenly upon the ‘ detective’s face. , “ Tears to me you’re mighty obliging, young man," he said. “ I always try to be,” answered Ray. Ossian’s gray eyes twinkled strangely. “ I feel as if I could kiss you, too,” he rejoin— ed. . “ I beg you won’t,” returned Ray, and he retreated, as if he really thought Ossian wasin earnest. I Ossian chuckled to himself, went into the hall, called the colored woman, whose sudden appearance denoted that she was not very far off when she was called, and her anxiety to make herself useful. ‘ The girls were shown to their room, which was the front chamber up one flight of stairs, and Ray carried up their trunk. “ He’s as strong as a. mule!” remarked Ossian, in his dry fashion. “ And as brave as a lion I” returned Bartyne. “ You’ll like him better, Ossian, when you come to know him better.” “ So’ll you, Peter!” ‘-‘ No doubt—no doubt!” The men gathered in the parlor again. “ Now to business,” began Bartyne. “ Did you close the office, Chester?” “No, sir; I left Jim incharge. He can be trusted to take any new orders that may come. In fact, we can not supply any new customers, as you know. It is as much as we can do to supply the old ones.” “ True; but we must go down to the Office and put things in shape; this affair has unset- tled matters. Then these villains must be at- tended to. Do you think it advisable to make » a descent upon them tonight?" he inquired of Third avenue, and there took passage on a car downtown. Jim Bates was delighted to see them when they arrived at the office, having groWn some- what weary of being left there alone. - An hour was devoted to business, and then Genni Bartyne (I may as well drop the name of Peter Shaw now) and Frank Ray wont to the police headquarter-sin Mulberry street to make arrangements for the capture of the False Faces that night. . This matter being settled, Frank proposed that they should take a stroll by the house that contained the lodge room of the False Faces. “ It’s a roundabout way to your office, sir,” he said, “ but I think it might be advisable if you could spare the time.” “ Certainly,” answered Bartyne. They walked in that direction, and as they walked briskly they soon reached the house. “I thought so l” exclaimed Ray, pausing at the door. “ What is it?” inquired Bartyne. “ Do you perceive any change here?” Bartyne surveyed the house. “ The blinds of the doctor’s windows are closed,” he answered. “Is that all?” Bartyne looked again. f‘ I don‘t perceive anything else,” he replied. “ Where’s his Sign?” inquired Ray, “Why, it’s gone I” “ Yes; and the doctor’s gone, too!” “ Do you think so?” “ Yes, sir, the birds are flown. I though; they would not stop long here. They are wide awake, sir; they were not going to give us a chance to catch them. Our only hope was to surprise them. Our coming for Etta gave them the alarm.” “ But if we had left her an hour longer in their hands they would have spirited her away to some retreat which we might have been weeks in searching for.” “ Very true, sir.” “I had rather that they should escape than that any harm should have befallen her.” “You were right, sir; so had I; but, I con- fess, I feel a strong anxiety to trap these ras- Gals—and I shall never feel satisfied until I do.” “ You think then that they have abandoned this house?” “ Undoubtedly, sir. Don’t you see the bill: ‘Apartments to Let i” V answered Bartyne, surprisedly. “I did not attach any paiticular significance to that as there are bills on both the houses upon either side, as you see. ” ' “ Oh, yes, there’s always sonic apartments to let in these kind of houses, and so the bill ‘To Let "becomes a chronic attachment to the apartments to let are the very ones occupied Ray. , “Most decidedly. If we don’t find them there tonight, we never will,” answered the is a newness to this bill which _shows that it ‘ by the doctor and the False Faces; and there “Really, you appear to notice everything,” - 7‘ door-post. But I observed in this bill that the . detective; " and I’m afraid it is too late as it {has been renewed to—day.” is.” “ Perhaps it is, but we’ll make the attempt. Ossian, we will leave you here in charge.” “Are you going without your Pe— ter?” asked Ossian, for Bartyne had cast it sometimes leads to a great result. ” _ Ray rung the bell vigorously, and they could “ No more disguises for me, Ossian. The bear it through the, door sounding loudly in the off. villains must know I am alive by this time. Don’t you think so?” ~ “Yes,” responded Ray. “Doctor Water— vliet could tell them that. How cheap they must have felt when they arrived and found Etta gone. Ha! ha! ha!” His laugh was so infections that they all joined in it. ‘ “ Well, it will be some little time before they can trace us here,” said Bartyne; “ and we must try to trace and secure them first. We won’t be back here until late, Ossian.” “Very well.” ‘ . H Come 1” “One moment,” said Omlan; “I want to speak to this young man first.” “ You haven’t another presentiment of evil, eh, Osslan't’ Bhrtyne asked, uneasily. “Oh, no; I see nothing but good before us now. You go on, and wait for him at the gate” Bartyne and Chester Starks left the house, wondering at this singular proceeding on the part of Ossian Plummer. V “Well, my friend, what have you to say to me?” asked Ray, when they were alone. Ossian laid his hand impressively upon the young man’s arm. ‘ ‘ “ I know who you are,” he said. Ray stared in astonishment into the gray eyes, of that hardfeatured face, and the gray eyes smiled kindly upon him. “ The deuce you do?” he exclaimed. “I do!” responded Ossian, nodding his head significantly. ‘ Ray laughed, crying: “ Well, that’s odd! for a week ago I didn’t know myself. You’re a long-headed, keen- witted individual. ” “ I’m a Yankee, and we’re given to gueming. Do you mean to tell him?” “ Of course; but not yet.” “ When?” “When this cruel war is over—that is to say, when his enemies are destroyed—my ene- mies as well as his!” _ ‘ “ Why not now?” urged Ossian, laying his hand affectionately upon the young man’s shoulder. “ It is not time; the case is not worked out yet. Let we finish up this business first.” Ossian reflected over this for a moment. “ Perhaps you are right,” he answered. “ Go then, but be careful of yourself, be careful of him.” “ You can depend upon that. yourself, old boy l” With this parting salutation, Ray hastened to join“ Peter Shaw and Chester Starke, whom he found waiting for him at the gate. “ What did Ossian have to say to you?” in~ quired Peter Shaw. “Not much," answered Ray. “He wished to impress the necessity of caution in our pro’ coedings upon my mind.” “ Yes; Ossian is prudence personified. In _ fact he has rather astonished me'during this visit of his to New York. ‘ He seems changed in a measure~dififerent from his old self.” “ How so i” - “ Why shrewder and keener.” , “ He’s smart!” rejoined Ray, with convic- tion. ’ “ You like him, then?” “ Very much!” _ “I thought you would. There's a good heart within his rugged breast. Ossian Plum- mer is a friend in a thousand. He is honesty itself, and as steadfast to his trust asthe green hills of his native State. Ah! I should not be where I am today if it had not been for Os- sian Plummer and his sister Almira. He’s shrewd enough, but she’s his superior in intel- Take care of Don’t‘you thipk so, Chester?” “I ,do indeed, sir.” ‘ “Upon my word! your discernment is of ‘the keenest kind 1” exclaimed Bartyne, approv- ingly. “ I never should have noticed that.” _ “It’s my business, sir. hall. “ What are you about to do now?” inquired Bartyne. ' “Make some inquiries to see if those fellows have left any clue by which they may be traced; I hardly expect it though.” The door opened, and the slatternly female. who had charge of the premises, appeared. “ Can you tell me where Doctor Watervliet has moved?” inquired Ray, in his most winning manner. “ He’s gone out of town,” replied the fe- male. ~ , “Out of town?” echoed Ray; he hal not ex— pected such ananswer'as this. “ Do you know which way?” he added. “ Yes. He told me that he had got a Gov- ernment appointment to go to the navy yard at Pensacola, as they have got the yellow fe- ver very bad down there.” “ Ah: thank you. I see that the upper floor is to let.” “ Yes, the doctor had that as a surgery—I think he called it. Would you like to look at it, sir?” “ What’s the rent?” “ Twelve dollars a month.” - “ Hum! no—-I guess we won’t trouble you— it’s a little too hig —” “ Why that’s cheap!” ‘ “ I allude to the altitude of the floor,” an— swered Ray, laughingly. “ I’m afraid it’s too high up in the world for us. Thank you; good day!” Ray walked away and Bartyne followed “ Do you think this doctor has really gone to Pensacola?” he inquired; when they had walk- ed some little distance from the house. “ Not he! That’s an ingenious device to throw us off the scent. He is still in the city, and I have a shrewd suspicion that his con federates are here also. But that nest is empty. There is no use making any descent there to- night. They’ve gone, bag and baggage.” “ There‘s no doubt of that. They moved with a surprising celerity. I don’t see how we are going to trace them.” . A “ That’s for me to find out. They may baf- fle us at the start, but when the law begins to chase a party of scoundrels in earnest it’s bound to run them down at last.” ‘ “ What do you purpose to do next?” “ Hunt up this lawyer, Selkreg. I’m just going to his office now. I’d like to ascertain if he has gone out of town also.” “Shall I go with you?” , “Well, yes, it’s on the way to your office, and it will satisfy your mind, and save me the trouble of making a report to you.” They proceeded tovCenter street and stopped at the dilapidated wooden house that bore Cobra Selkreg's sign upon it. “ Here‘s the shyster's office,” said Frank Ray door of Selkreg’s office locked, and a card tack- ed upon it hearing this inscription: “ Out of town.” Ray smiled as he saw it. “ I thought so!” he cried. “ I’ve got a game of hide-and-seek before me.” ‘ They descended to the street. “ What next!” inquired Bartyne. “ You may as well go to your ofllce, sir, and I will return to headquarters,” replied Ray. “ We can do nothing tonight, and I must change the arrangement. All you have to, do now is to go on with your business as usual, and leave the affair in my hands. When I dis- cover anythiug I will let you know.” On this they separated. (T o be continued—~commenced in No. 252.) A surranssnn resolve will betray itself in The smallest trifle Going up the dingy stairs they found the - The Dumb Page: THE noen’si’ DAUGHTER. BY FREDERICK WHITTAKER, AUTHOR or “ THE IRISH CAPTAIN," “ THE RED wan,” “run ROCK RIDER,” “THE SEA CAT,” um, ETC. CHAPTER XVIII. ‘THE END on ALL. A GLOOMY picture was presented, some hours later, by the Secret Hall of the Council of Three. ' , This was the last dreadw tribunal of Venice, above even the better known Council of Ten. Its sittings were held in secret. Judges and attendants were alike habited in black, and sworn to secrecy on all points. .In a. deep, vaulted hall, or rather dungeon, built in the foundations of the ducal palace, the meeting was held. The massive stone arches, and great slabs of pavement, were faintly illumined by the light of several swing- ing lamps, that hung from iron rings in the ceiling. » The atmosphere was cold and damp, for the hall was below sea level, and the soak— ing waters were only kept out by the tough hydraulic cement. On one side of an oval stone table were three great chairs or thrones, also of stone, and in these sat three silent figures, draped from head to foot in black robes and in deep shadow. On the table, extended on a pallet, lay Don Lorenzo Bellario, pale as a corpse, but still with his eyes open, and able to breathe faintly.~ His wounds were all neatly bandaged. Stand- ing before the table was. Antonio Bonetta, in full Grenoese uniform, but with his hands fet- tered. Next to him was the false page, the princess Julia, and she also was fettered. Then there was a chair. Seated in that chair, and cold and rigid, was the dead body of the ill~starred Annetta, who had assumed the role of princess, to meet her death from the hand of her sister.~ Then there was a circle of black, silent fig- ures in long robes, who bore in their hands naked swords; the familiars. ' The room was still as death, till the judge, who sat on the middle throne, asked, in a deep, tremulous voice: “ Are the prisoners here?” “ Ay, my lord!” answered one of the dark familiars out of the shadow. “ Name them.” The familiar advanced and called out: “ Don Lorenzo Bellario.” “ Here!” was the faint response from the table. ' “ Captain _ Bonetta. ” “ Count Bonetta, of the service of Genoa,” corrected the Swiss officer, in a defiant man—- nor. » “Annette, page and mistress,” continued the official, quite regardless of , the interrup» tion. I » There was no, response. The question was repeated. ' “Dead!” answered a low voice, that of the false page. The judge in the center started, and threw back the cowl from his head. Then one could see that it was the blind Dogs himself. “ Who spoke?” he demanded, in a trembling voice. ~ The judge on his right caught him by the sleeve, and Whispered for some moments in his car. When he had finished, the old man bowed greatly agitated. Presently he raised his head and said, in a broken voice: “ It is just. The sins of the fathers are vis— ited on the children. Read the accusation against Captain Bonetta.” At a sign from the silent judge the familiar read, in a monotonous voice: “Antonio Bonetta. captain of the Swiss Guards of the State of Venice, is accused, out of the Lion‘s Mouth, of conspiring to deliver the fleets of Venice into the power of the Turk. A letter from the viz ier of the Grand Turk was found concealed in the bolster of the said Captain Bonetta, at his quarters in the Swiss barracks by the arsenal, alludln to a revious demand for money on the part c said u tam Bonetm, for services to be rendered by him an consentin thereto. The said Captain Bonette is also accuse of deserting the service of Venicv without leave, and fleeing to foreign partsto esca e the punishment of treason to the republic on t e day of the accusation from the Lion’s Mouth." “ Antonio Bonetta,” said the deep, trema— lous voice of the old Dogs, “ what have you to say to this?” 7 Benetta raised his head: proudly. “For the desertion,” he answered, “I say Not Guilty. I sent in my resignation to the commander of my battalion before I left the city. It is a custom among the free Swiss .to do so, if it shall seem good to them. I owe no fealty to Venice, since I signed my name to that paper. Send to the commandant, and you will find it is so.” » One of the cowled judges made a rapid sign, and a familiar glided from the room. The Dogs looked as if perplexed, as he asked: “And what oiled thee in Venice, Bonetta, th I thou shouldst leave it? Were we not kind to thee?” Bonetta’s voice trembled for the first time. “ Most kind, my lord,” he said. “ Too kind to the humble soldier of fortune. Man could not have been happier than I, till the fatal day that man crossed my path.” , And he pointed to Don Lorenzo, who smiled faintly, with a_strauge, derisive smile. “My lords,” he continued, “ of the charge of correspondence with the Turk, I am; inno- cent. The man who put the accusation into the Lion’s Mouth doubaless hid the letter in my room. I accuse Don Lorenzo Bellario of being the man who did both, and I call on you to compare the writing of the two letters with those of any undoubted letters of his that you can find.” Again Don Lorenzo smiled. wered in a sad tone: “ Would that we could believe thy tale, Bo netta. But the letter was recognized by the council as being written by the vizier him‘ self.” . “ Then God help the cause of truth!” said the Swiss, “ for I cannot understand it.” “What was thy reason for leaving Venice then?” asked one of the judges, sharply. “ Tell us the truth, mind, for the rack lies in the next room.” Bonetta drew himself up haughtily. “ It needs no rack to make a Swiss speak truth, my lord,” he said. “I left Venice, bad ly wounded in a duel by Don Lorenzo Bellarlo. He picked a quarrel with me to avenge my having prevented, along with a noble lady, his: abduction of the princess, J ulia Dandolo, daughter to my lord, the Dogs. He wounded me, and left me, as he thought, for dead. I was, picked up by a fisherman, and taken home across the bay. And then, my lords, a gay barge passed me, with music and mirth, and 1 saw my betrothed bride therein, while I lay at death’s door; and Don Lorenzo’s arm was round her, my lords, while she, false, perjured one, The Doge ans- his face On his hands, and appeared to be ty feet off. My lords, the heart that Lorenzo’s rapier spared was wrenched in twain by the jeweled fingers of a woman. Do with me what you will. I have had my vengeance at last on him. All the rest is gall and asth now.” ’ ' There was a deep silence as he ended his bit- ter speech. It was broken by a stifled sob from the shadow where the familiars stood. Then the cold, passionless voice of the cowl- ed judge said: ’ “ And you left Venice for a cross in love?” “ I left Venice for vengeance, my lord,” said Bonetta, grimly. “The trodden worm became a serpent with a sting. I went to Florence, and learned all the mysteries of fence with ’Cola Bottarma. I swore to come back and punish Don Lorenzo. Then, sudden- ly, I heard that the hue and cry was out against me, for treason to Venice—I, who had periled my life so often for her against the Turk. Then I'went to Genoa, and told my story to the council, and they took me with open arms to their service. They have no Lion’s Mouth in Genoa to slander brave sol— diers behind their bucks. I came back, and the first man I saw was this same Don Lo- renzo, and with him her, the false one. I in sulted him with a purpose, fought him down, and now there he lies—curse him forever! tri— umphant, even now, that he has robbed me of my only love.” ' There was a sudden commotion among the dark familiars. One of them dropped the naked sword to the ground with a clash, rush- ed forward, before any one could stir, and throw back the black hood from her head, re vealing the lovely face of Estella Milleroni, sufiused with tearsl She fell on her knees at Bonetta’s feet and seized his hands, manacled before him, cover- ing them with kisses and tears. “Antonio, my lord, my love!” she cried: “it is thee indeed. Oh! forgive me that I doubted thee, and kill me.” But the judges rose with one accord at this interruption. “The Countess Milleroni!” exclaimed one; “how came she here?” “I will tell you, my lords,” answered the lady, boldly; “ I came in disguised as you see, with the order of one of your noble selves. Had it not been for me, Count Bonetta would not be in your hands. \I suspected the duel, and gave you the information that led to his capture, because I wished him to have a fair trial, as was promised me, by two of your noble selves. And now I tell all the world my belief that he is innocent, and I crave his pardon on my knees, martyr that he is, for doubting him on the evidence of yonder dying traitor.” There was a movement of distrust among the judges. One of them threw back his cowl, disclosing the features of Count Foscari. “Faliero,” he said, bitterly, in a low tone, “it is you who have betrayed our secrets to this woman.” “ Hush I” replied the other, apart; “we can afford to be just for once. Here comes the messenger.” The three judges sunk back on. their seats, as the familiar entered the room'with a large letter, which he handed to Count Faliero. The latter broke it open and handed it to Fos— cari triumphantly, saying: ' “The captain’s story is true. resignation. ” Count Foscari looked it over, and nodded ill-temperedly. , “ Well, well,” he said; “so far, so good. Butdthe letter from the vizier remains to be accounted for.” There was an awkward silence. Bonetta stood looking at the countess, hope, fear, doubt, love, and bitterly lacerated feeling, struggling together in his rugged face. She, on her part, was weeping softly, kissing those fettered hands, and regarding him with inex- pressible penitence and love. Julia Dandolo had been standing with down cast head, silent and apparently sullen, during the whole of the proceedings. Suddenly she raised her head and said, in a strangely low, hushed tone: “ I can account for it, my lor ” There was a pause of utter astonishment. Even Don Lorenzo turned his head with a look of wonder. “You?” be muttered, faintly. “My lords,” said the disguised princess, firmly, “we are all of one family here. Let the familiars go forth and keep the doors, for What I say concerns the honor of Venice.” There was a hurried, whispered consultation among the judges. Then Faliero motioned to the familiars to retire, in obedience to the mandate. ' In a few moments more they heard the heavy bronze doors at the head of the winding stone stairs clung to with a dull roar, and they knew that they were alone. . Then, and not till then, the black—robed judges descended from their seats, and the blind Doge hurriedly inquired: ‘ “J alia! Julia! is it really thee, my daugh- ter? Oh! what hast thou done? Who is it that took thy place to deceive the blind old maul” “ My father,” answered the girl, holding out her manacled hands for him to feel, “is it fit that a daughter of Dandolo should be chained like a felon?” “ Who chained her?” demanded the old man, furiously gazing round with his sightless eyes. “Who dared to chain my daughter? Unlock those fetters instantly! Count Foscari, this is your work, I know. ” Count Foscarihurriedly unlocked the fetters without a word, and the old Doge folded his arms around his child, saying in a broken voice, with wandering manner: “ I know all, my child. The fisherman’s daughter it was that thou slowest. They shall not harm thee while I live, Julia. They shall not take my child from me.” The girl, turned paler than ever, as she saw the mere wreck that remained of her father. “Let us be just, father,” she said, Softly; “I have wronged a. brave man, and I must make reparation, for the honor of Dandolo.” “ The honor of Dandolo!” and the blind Doge stood up as straight as a soldier on parade; “say enfmy daughter.” Then, in the midst of a‘ deep silence, Julia spoke, every ear hanging on her words. "Captain Bonetta is innocent,” she said. “The letter was put into his room. Remove his fetters.” Count Faliero unlocked the fetters of the Swiss with a snap. “ Who put the letters in his room?” demand- ed Foscari, in his sharp, suspicious tone. “ I did!” said Julia, calmly. There was a general start. “ You?” exclaimed several voices. , “Myself,” said the girl, calmly; “I put the letter into the Lion’s Mouth, and the other into Captain Bonetta’s bed.” *‘ But, Julia,” interrupted the old Doge, querulously, “how could you do that, when you were kept at home in our palace all the Here is his Conversmg in this manner they walked to the eyes. sung with him a gay love song, and Inot twen- “\ time?" . She sighed and smiled at once. “Ah! how: safe these fathers think us! They put governors and nurses over us, and fancy that the young bird will never learn to use its wings. Ah! my father, so it was, till one day a bright, cavalier came floating by in his gondola, and be. sung so sweetly that I be came his slave forever. And this cavalier was a wicked man, and he 'had for a. page a fair-haired girl, who was wondrously'like me. And so the caged bird longed to be free and try her wings. And the poor wild bird had been shot at and snared by the wicked fowler with the beautiful eyes; she longed fer the quiet and safety of the cage. So, to make it short, I, the princess, dofl'ed robe and train, and donned the silk hose and velvet doublet of the saucy page. And then I flew to the bean- tiful, wicked fowler, and lo! he had been in- jured by another, Captain Bonetta. So I avenged him on his enemy, and drove Bonetta from Venice. And now he has come back and killed my love.” She suddenly broke out with wild, passionate weeping, and flung her arms around the neck of the wounded man, kissing his pale face with desperate love. “And I tortured him while I loved him,” she cried, “and now Heaven takes him from me to avenge the crime.” Don Lorenzo raised his left arm, the only one that was capable of use, and drew her close to him, murmuring: “We will die together, love.” “Ay!” she cried, suddenly, starting up and confrontng the rest with a glowing face; “ we will defy you all in death, Doge, who would not let us love each other, council who would kill him if they knew all, and officious med- dlers yonder, who have been punished rightly. Listen! Do you know to whom that letter was addressed that was found in Bonetta’s bed? “ T 0 Captain Bella'rvio. “Fools of council! that had ten thousand spies at work, and could not find these. ” As she spoke, she drew from her bosom a bundle of parchments, and threw them down, one by one, at the feet of Count Foscari, with a shrill laugh, crying: “ There! the first letter to Captain Bellario, under Admiral Millcroni, offering him a bun- dred thousand ducats to betray the fleet. There! the commission of admiral from the Turk. There 2 the receipt for the money received . And there the patent of the order of St. Mark. My here! My love! He cheated the Turk; and, instead of delivering the fleet into their hands, he gained a glorious victory for you, ungrateful dogs! And yet, if ye had known of this correspondence, nothing could have saved him from the block. And now he is dying. The meddlesome fool who first tried to part us has triumphed at last, and slain my love, and I have slain my sister. I did it III passion, not meaning to kill her, but the dagger was poi- soned. Therefore, I must die, to appease the laws of Venice. And now, father, I charge you, if ever you loved me, to bury me beside the man I have loved and tortured, and to write on my tomb only these words: ‘ She died a maiden.’ ” Awed by her Wild words, no one stirred a’ finger, when she turned again to Don Lorenzo and threw herself on his body, pressing her lips to his in a last kiss. A little shudder passed through both, and all ‘was still. - “ She has slain herself and him,” said the deep voice of Captain Bonetta, and he pointed to the two white faces. It was indeed so. They found a small vial of deadly poison broken between her teeth in that last kiss of death, and the two strange beings had gone to their long account together. There is but little more to tell. The story was hushed up, and the funeral of the princess, closely followed by that of her father, from grief at her loss, excited only the sorrow of the multitude at her early death. Bonetta and Estella Milleroni were united, after all their trials, and the captain became a famous admiral in the service of Genoa, for he never revisited Venice. Poor wronged Annette, the innocent sufferer of all, rests under a slab in Saint Mark’s cathe- dral, under the style and title of the Princess Julia. Few ever guess, when they press the green sod that marks a little grave in the Stranger-8’ Field, that beneath them lie the dust of beau— tiful, wicked Lorenzo Bellario, and his erring love, the Doge’s daughter. THE END. A new story by this delightful romancist is in hand, soon to be given—«a sequel to the highly prized boys’ romance, “ Lance and Lasso.” In this new story the Boy Hunters and Adventurers go in— to strange regions and have strange adventures with a strange people. 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