gazing. And then the bell once more broke out into impatient clamour. He confronted the maid upon the threshold with something like a smile. "You had better go for the police," said he; "I have killed your master." Vor M QUEEN TITA'S WAGER BY WILLIAM BLACK CHAPTER I FRANZISKA FAHLER T is a Christmas morning in Surrey-cold, still, a ing through the bare trees to melt the hoar-frost on the lawn. The postman has just gone out, swinging the gate behind him. A fire burns brightly in the breakfast-room; and there is silence about the house, for the children have gone off to climb Box Hill before being marched to church. The small and gentle lady who presides over the household walks sedately in, and lifts the solitary letter that is lying on her plate. About three seconds suffice to let her run through its contents, and then she suddenly cries: "I knew it! I said it! I told you two months ago she was only flirting with him; and now she has rejected him. And oh! I am so glad of it! The poor boy!" The other person in the room, who has been meekly waiting for his breakfast for half an hour, |