"And now he feels, and yet shall know,In realms where guilt shall end no gloom,The perils of inflicted woe,The anguish of the liar's doom!He hears a voice none else may hear,It bids his burning spirit pause;It bids thee, murderer! appearWhere angels plead the victim's cause!"
"And now he feels, and yet shall know,In realms where guilt shall end no gloom,The perils of inflicted woe,The anguish of the liar's doom!He hears a voice none else may hear,It bids his burning spirit pause;It bids thee, murderer! appearWhere angels plead the victim's cause!"
Almost a year had passed since the tragic death of unhappy Sydney Lyle. Now outraged justice was about to avenge her death.
Conviction had followed swiftly upon the murderer's arrest and imprisonment.
When he had left poor Jennie Thorn, his betrayed and ruined victim, fainting upon the floor, with his demoniacal words ringing in her ears, he had little dreamed how and when he should meet her again.
Perhaps he thought she would pass silently from his life as other wronged ones had done, and never be seen or heard of again.
Not the slightest premonition of evil had come to tell him that the hatred he had stirred to life in her once loving heart would pursue him to the scaffold.
Yet so it was, and Jennie Thorn had stood up in the witness-box and given, under oath, the testimony that had cost him his life—had given it gladly, triumphantly, without one thrill of pity or regard for the man she had once loved and trusted.
Well, it was all over now—the trial was a thing of the past—to-morrow the sentence of the law would be carried out and his neck would be broken upon the scaffold.
Many a time when he thought of it now with a sick and shuddering horror, he recalled the angry words that Queenie Lyle had spoken to him years ago:
"They cannot be drowned who are born to be hung."
His reckless, wicked career was over. He had cheated men of their substance at the gaming-table, he had robbed women of what was dearer, their peace and honor, without a thought of the retribution that would fall on him from the God he had offended.
But now when the priest came to him and told him solemnly and sadly what terrors awaited him if he died unrepentant, remorse and terror struck their terrible fangs into his guilty heart.
"I have done many wrongs that nothing can ever set right, father," he said humbly to the meek priest. "But there is one black falsehood hanging heavy on my heart, one sin I may in some little way atone for. Will you send Lawrence Ernscliffe to see me to-night? I will tell him how cruelly I wronged the lovely woman he married and how pure and innocent she was then and ever. And Jennie Thorn, father. Will you ask her to come and see me? I will beg her to forgive me."
"I will send Captain Ernscliffe to you, my son, if he will come, but Jennie Thorn—that is impossible!"
"Is she so bitter and unrelenting, then!" said the prisoner, sadly.
"Let us hope not," said the gentle priest. "But she is gone away, my son.
"Immediately after your trial and conviction she left the United States and returned to England as the wife of the detective who effected your arrest."
The prisoner sighed and bent his head.
The priest bowed over him a moment, murmured a benediction and passed out through the heavy iron door that shut Leon Vinton in forever from the busy, beautiful world.
A few hours later the heavy iron door was unlocked, then clanged together again, shutting Lawrence Ernscliffe in alone with the condemned prisoner.
They looked at each other in blank silence for a minute, then the visitor said coldly:
"You sent for me?"
"Yes, I sent for you," said the prisoner, eagerly. "I have wronged you and would make reparation before—before to-morrow."
The fire of rage and hatred that flared up in the listener's eyes was dreadful to behold.
"You lied to me—how dared you do it?" he exclaimed, hoarsely. "Did I not say I would have your life if I found you out?"
"The few hours of life that remain to me are not worth your vengeance," was the quiet reply. "Sit down, Captain Ernscliffe, I would speak to you of your wife."
He pointed to a chair, but the visitor shook his head.
"No, I prefer standing. I can scarcely breathe the same air with you, Leon Vinton! Speak quickly."
"Do not look on me as your enemy now, Captain Ernscliffe," said the prisoner, deprecatingly. "I stand apart from my fellow-men as a condemned criminal about to be executed.
"Think of me as a wretched sinner trying to make peace with those whom I have wronged that I may plead for pardon before my offended God."
Captain Ernscliffe bowed silently, and the angry flash in his dark eyes faded out at the melancholy tone and air of the frightened and wretched criminal.
"I lied to you when I told you that I did not marry Queenie Lyle," said Leon Vinton, looking down and speaking in a low, hoarse voice.
"The day she ran away with me I married her, and the certificate was placed in her hands.
"She thought she was my wife, but the pretended minister who performed the ceremony was only a boon companion of mine who had served me before in such an accommodating manner.
"It was the merest farce, but Queenie thought she was my legal wife.
"She would not have gone with me else. She was as pure and innocent as an angel."
He paused a moment, but he did not look up. He could not bear to meet the tiger glare in the eyes of the man before him. Clearing his throat nervously, he continued:
"I lived with her a year, and then we mutually wearied of each other.
"Her keen intuition soon showed her that she had been deceived in me, and that I was far different from the ideal which she had placed on a lofty pedestal and worshiped for awhile as a god among men.
"She scorned me then, and I hated her because she had found me out. In my rage I told her the truth, and then I tried to kill her."
"My God!" Captain Ernscliffe muttered, clenching his hands as though he would have torn the villain limb from limb.
"I thought I had killed her," pursued Vinton. "I strangled her with both my hands.
"I threw her down and trampled upon her beautiful face that had been her ruin.
"I hurriedly dug her a shallow grave, covered her over with the wet earth and leaves, and hastened back to the cottage by the river where we had lived together."
"Fiend!" thundered Captain Ernscliffe, springing furiously upon him.
The prisoner, chained as he was, could offer no resistance to his infuriated assailant. He did not even utter a cry.
But all in a moment Captain Ernscliffe remembered himself, and drew back before he had struck the fatal blow he had meditated. He would not harm a defenseless man.
"I will not kill you," he said, hoarsely, "but finish your story quickly. I can scarcely bear your presence."
"It was the first murder I had ever attempted," said the prisoner, after a long-drawn breath. "Naturally enough, I felt nervous over it.
"I walked up and down the river-bank for hours in the rain, trying to excuse myself to myself.
"Then all of a sudden she came up behind me, and pushed me in, and ran away.
"It was then that she went home to her parents. They took her back, kept her terrible secret, and married her to you.
"If I had let her alone then, all might have gone well," pursued the prisoner, "but I hated her for her maddened blow that dark, rainy night.
"I swore revenge. It was I who sent her the bouquet of flowers that caused her seeming death at the altar that night.
"I resurrected her, and made her a prisoner. She escaped the day that Farmer Thorn shot me.
"She thought I was dead, but as soon as I recovered from my wound I started out upon her trail again, still pursuing my hellish scheme of vengeance.
"But she escaped me for years, and I never met her again, until the night that I murdered her sister.
"I had just reached London that night, and went into the theater, full of idle curiosity to see La Reine Blanche, the beautiful idol of the hour.
"The moment she came upon the stage I recognized in the great actress the lovely girl I had treated so inhumanly.
"In an instant I conceived my diabolical plan of revenge. I hurried out of the theater, sent that note to her dressing-room, and waited at the western door.
"The woman who came had the voice, the form, the step of Queenie, and I plunged my dagger in her heart. I killed Sydney, but the blow was meant for Queenie."
He stopped, and there was silence in the gloomy prison-cell, while the criminal waited for Ernscliffe to speak.
"You are telling me the truth?" he demanded, hoarsely.
"As God is my judge, and on the word of a dying man. Let Queenie tell you her story and she will corroborate my words. Ihave pursued her pitilessly, remorselessly. I have wronged her beyond all reparation, yet she is as pure, and true, and innocent to-day as she was that fatal hour when I first met her, a happy, thoughtless girl, selling her painted fan to buy her simple ball-dress. My terrible sin against her is enough of itself to drag my soul down to the lowest depths of perdition!" added the prisoner, with a hollow groan.
"You have indeed sinned fearfully, and God will punish you," said Captain Ernscliffe, turning to go.
"A moment longer," pleaded the unhappy wretch. "Say that you forgive me before you go."
"Never in this world or in the next!" cried Captain Ernscliffe, furiously.
The grated door unclosing, let in the priest who was to spend the night with the condemned man.
He caught their parting words.
"My son, my son," he said, laying his withered hand on Ernscliffe's arm, "forgive the poor soul; he is almost beyond your resentment. Think where his soul will be to-morrow night. Give him your hand in token of pardon."
"No, no," said the listener, shuddering; "I will not touch his hand, but—but"—with a great effort—"I will forgive him."
"Tellherto forgive me, too," said Leon Vinton, looking at him with his wild, frightened face. "Tell her I am sorry—tell her that I repent. She is an angel. She will forgive me."
The door closed upon the retreating form, and the gentle priest knelt down and began to pray for the guilty soul so soon to be launched into a dread eternity.
Captain Ernscliffe found that it was almost midnight when he reached home after his visit to the condemned murderer.
He was too excited for sleep, and going to the library he turned up the dimly-lighted gas and prepared to spend the remaining hours of the night among his books.
A pleasant warmth pervaded the luxurious apartment, and the fragrance of some white hyacinths, blooming in vases on the marble mantel, filled the air with sweetness.
They were Queenie's favorite flowers. He remembered the one she had worn on her breast the day he had come upon her in her strange interview with Sydney.
Breaking off a beautiful spray he pressed it to his lips, then pinned it on his coat.
"I wonder where she is now?" he said to himself, with a heavy sigh, as he drew up a chair to the table and laid his head down upon his folded arms.
Something rustled under his touch as he did so, and he looked up quickly.
There was a sealed letter lying upon the table, addressed to himself in an unfamiliar writing. It had been laid there by a servant while he was absent.
Mechanically he tore it open and glanced at the bottom of the page for his unknown correspondent's name.
"Robert Lyle," he read, aloud, with a suddenly quickened heart-beat.
Yes, it was from Robert Lyle—a brief note, coldly and curtly written.
"Captain Ernscliffe," it simply ran, "I arrived in this city to-day with your wife. She is now quite well and prepared to defend her case at any time the lawyers agree upon—to-morrow, if necessary."
"Captain Ernscliffe," it simply ran, "I arrived in this city to-day with your wife. She is now quite well and prepared to defend her case at any time the lawyers agree upon—to-morrow, if necessary."
That was all. It was brief, cold, and to the point. Yet the reader's heart thrilled with sudden joy.
"She is here in this city; she is well," he said to himself. "Oh, how can I wait until to-morrow?"
But he waited, nevertheless, though burning with anxiety and impatience, and at the earliest permissible hour he was shown into Robert Lyle's private parlor at the hotel where he was stopping.
Mr. Lyle was sitting cozily over his morning paper and cigar, his slippered feet on the fender, his gorgeous dressing-gown wrapped comfortably around him.
He rose in some surprise as his unexpected visitor was ushered in.
"You did not expect me," said Captain Ernscliffe, as they shook hands. "I received your letter at midnight, sir, and came this morning as early as propriety would allow. I want to see my wife, Mr. Lyle," he added, in a trembling voice. "Will you take her my card and see if she will admit me to her presence?"
Mr. Lyle looked at him curiously a moment. He saw that he was struggling with some unexplained agitation, and that he had not come with any hostile intent.
He pointed toward a side door that stood slightly ajar.
"She is in there," he said; "there is no need of formalities. Go in and see her."
With a faltering step Captain Ernscliffe advanced and passed through the partly open door.
He found himself in a beautiful little dressing-room, with hangings of pale-blue silk, exquisitely furnished and pervaded with the delicate perfume of white hyacinth.
Before the bright fire burning in the polished grate a lady was sitting in a low rocker of cushioned blue satin.
He advanced toward her, then started back. He thought he had made a mistake.
For the beautiful woman sitting there in her elegant morning-robe of quilted blue satin was looking down and smiling at something that lay on her arm, nestled close and warm against her breast.
It was the pink face of a very tiny baby, wrapped in costly robes of embroidered flannel, and lace and cambric.
Captain Ernscliffe was going out quite precipitately when a low, startled voice cried out:
"Lawrence!"
He turned back and looked more closely.
Yes, itwasQueenie—but then—thatbaby—where on earth—and at that stage of his cogitations something flashed across his mind.
This, then, was the cause of that long, mysterious illness. What a fool he had been not to suspect it before.
He rushed to her side, and kneeling down upon the carpet, put his arms around the beautiful mother and child.
"My darling," he murmured, in a voice so broken by emotion that he could scarcely speak at all. "My precious Queenie, my own sweet wife, shall we mutually forgive and forget all that is past?"
One stifled sob of joy, and then the woman dropped her face upon his shoulder in silence.
One moment of rapturous stillness while she rested in the close clasp of his strong arm and then he whispered, with his lips against her warm cheek:
"Darling, you will forget my cruelty and come back to me—you and the little one?"
Then she lifted her head and looked at him with a happy, little laugh and a very bright blush.
"Lawrence, kiss our little boy," she said, putting the little bundle in his arms. "Is he not a pretty babe? I call him Robbie, for my uncle, who has been so good and kind in all my trouble."
"While I have been so cruel and unkind," he said, remorsefully.
"But that is all past now," she said, hopefully. "Oh, Lawrence, I thought you would never return to me again! What caused you to forgive me?"
"That villain—whom I cannot curse now because he was hung this morning—confessed all to me last night. My darling! you were cruelly wronged, and I was mad and blind to believe all the lies he told me at first."
"The best he could tell you was bad enough," she said, remorsefully. "It was wicked, it was terrible of me to have encouraged that clandestine acquaintance and secret love, deserting my home and loved ones for a stranger of whom I knew nothing, except that he was handsome, and that his romantic wooing took my foolish heart by storm.
"Oh, the bitter consequences that have followed that act of girlish folly!
"My own deep disgrace, my father's death from a broken heart, poor Sydney's dreadful murder, mamma and Georgina's everlasting alienation from me?"
She clasped her hands, and tears stood bright as dew-drops in her soft, blue eyes.
"Yes, darling," he said, as he laid his little son back in her arms, "your youthful folly has, indeed, worked out a terrible retribution. If your tragic story could be written it might teach many parents to guard their daughters more carefully, and many a thoughtless girl might grow wiser and profit by your dreadfulexperience. The fitting text for such a mournful story might be, 'Girls never keep a secret from your parents!'"
"Am Ide trop?" asked Uncle Robert, putting his gray head and smiling face into the room at that moment.
"Never, Uncle Robert. You are one of us now, and always," said Captain Ernscliffe, bringing him in and giving him a cordial pressure of the hand.
Queenie looked up with the bright tears still shining in her eyes.
He kissed her fondly, then bent over the little babe to hide the dew of tenderness that dimmed his kindly blue orbs.
"I shall have to give up my little pet now," he said, a little sadly.
"No, you shall not, Uncle Robbie. You are to come home with us, and live with us always. You shall not live alone any longer," said Queenie, tenderly and gratefully.
Three years later, when Robbie was the loveliest and most mischievous little, dark-eyed lad that ever delighted a parent's heart, they all went abroad again.
Captain Ernscliffe, who was the fondest and most devoted husband in the world, had taken an absurd fancy that Queenie's roses were fading and that a European tour would improve her health.
So one bright, sunny morning in the month of roses, they found themselves registered as boarders at a famous health resort in Germany.
But after Captain Ernscliffe had smoked his cigar on the balcony, he came into his wife's airy room with a frown on his dark, handsome face.
"I shall have to take you away to-morrow, my dear," he said. "I have found out that your mother and sister are staying here. Of course it would be embarrassing to all parties if we remained."
"Yes, we must go away," she said, but she sighed as she spoke.
It had been a bitter cross to her that her mother and sister would not recognize her.
She loved them still, for the ties of kinship were very strong in her heart.
Now her own motherhood had made her even more gentle and loving than before.
She would have loved dearly to be friends with those proud ones who had discarded her, and to have shown her beautiful little son to his grandmother.
"Yes, we will go away to-morrow," she repeated, brushing away a quick-starting tear. "We must not trouble their peace."
But that evening, when her husband and her uncle had gone out for a walk, and she was alone with Robbie, she heard a timid and hesitating rap at her door.
"Enter," she said, looking up in some surprise.
The door opened, and Lady Valentine came abruptly into the room.
She was paler and graver than of old, and her stately form was draped in the gloomy sables of a widow.
"Georgina!" exclaimed Mrs. Ernscliffe, starting up.
Lady Valentine rushed forward, and threw her arms about the trembling, hesitating figure.
"Little Queenie, my sweet, wronged sister!" she cried, "will you forgive my cruelty to you, and love your Georgie again?"
"I have never ceased to love you, Georgie," was the answer.
Lady Valentine pressed a dozen kisses on the sweet lips and wavy, golden hair.
Queenie put her gently into a chair, and then she saw a little, dark-eyed lad looking at her with a great deal of wonder.
"What a lovely boy!" she said, "and it is yours, Queenie, I know, for he looks so like your husband."
"Yes," answered Queenie, proudly; then she led her little son up to her sister.
"Robbie, you must kiss your aunt," she said.
Lady Valentine stayed a long while with Queenie, and many mutual, touching confidences were exchanged by the long-parted sisters. At last she rose to go.
"May I have Robbie a little while?" she asked.
"You may go with your aunt, my dear," said Queenie, kissing the child.
Lady Valentine took his hand and led him away to a room where a gray-haired lady was sitting alone in the fast-falling twilight with a grave, rather sad expression on her handsome old face. Georgie lifted up Robbie and placed him on the lady's knee.
"Grandmother," she said, half-laughing, half-crying, "kiss your grandson."
"It is Queenie's child!" cried Mrs. Lyle, pressing him to her heart, and kissing him, then crying over him in her womanly joy and excitement.
"We must take him to his mother now," said Georgie. "Come, mamma," and Mrs. Lyle followed her without a word.
So when Captain Ernscliffe and Mr. Lyle returned from their walk they found them all together, Queenie's fair face perfectly radiant and every one very happy in this touching reunion.
They were never parted afterwards. When Mr. Lyle and the Ernscliffes returned to the United States Mrs. Lyle and Lady Valentine went with them. Mrs. Lyle had conceived such an affection for her little grandson that she could not bear to be separated from him. Georgina had no ties to bind her to England, so she followed them also. Many years of calm happiness came to Mrs. Ernscliffe afterward, but she never forgot the terrible secret that had almost desolated her life.
She had one daughter, a sweet and lovely girl, who bore the name of one long dead, and sometimes when she kissed and caressed her, Captain Ernscliffe would hear her say, sweetly and gravely:
"Sydney, my darling daughter, you must never have any secrets from your papa and mamma!"
[THE END.]
THE ONLY COMPLETE LIST OF BERTHA M. CLAY STORIES ::: MANY OF THESE TITLES ARE COPYRIGHTED AND CANNOT BE FOUND IN ANY OTHER EDITION.
PUBLISHED EVERY MONTH
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NO. 426
A weekly publication devoted to good literatureJuly 25, 1905
"Get Acquainted With Smith's"The Big ThreeMRS. GEORGIE SHELDONMRS. MARY J. HOLMESCHARLES GARVICEYOU are now looking at the three most popular authors in America. Ten million copies of their novels have been sold and they are now exclusively engaged to supplySmith's Magazinewith all their new work.Get a copy of the current number and look it over. It's the best published atTEN CENTSSMITH PUBLISHING HOUSE,NEW YORK
"Get Acquainted With Smith's"
The Big Three
MRS. GEORGIE SHELDON
MRS. MARY J. HOLMES
CHARLES GARVICE
YOU are now looking at the three most popular authors in America. Ten million copies of their novels have been sold and they are now exclusively engaged to supplySmith's Magazinewith all their new work.Get a copy of the current number and look it over. It's the best published atTEN CENTS
Y
OU are now looking at the three most popular authors in America. Ten million copies of their novels have been sold and they are now exclusively engaged to supplySmith's Magazinewith all their new work.
Get a copy of the current number and look it over. It's the best published at
TEN CENTS
SMITH PUBLISHING HOUSE,NEW YORK
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Some missing punctuation has been added without being noted below when the original text has extra spacing suggesting that the error could have been caused by light inking of the plates rather than incorrect typography.
Some inconsistent hyphenation has been retained (e.g. "woodwork" vs. "wood-work").
A table of contents has been added.
Some archaic spellings ("hightened", "vender") have been retained.
Added period after "Alex" in listing for "253—A Fashionable Marriage."
Removed unnecessary period after "By" in listing for "207—Little Golden's Daughter."
Removed unnecessary period after "(Barclay North)" in listing 176.
Removed unnecessary period in "(A Wilful Young Woman)" in listing 70.
Page 2, changed "weath" to "wreath."
Page 4, removed "an" from "an another."
Page 5, added missing period after "testily."
Page 9, changed "ye you" to "yet you" and changed question mark to period after "fair Necropolis of the dead."
Page 19, changed ? to ! after "it was all for you." Changed "Lillie" to "Lily."
Page 27, changed "shubbery" to "shrubbery."
Page 28, added missing comma after "revive."
Page 36, changed "eat" to "ate."
Page 38, changed "pedling" to "peddling."
Page 39, changed "spring" to "sprang."
Page 41, changed "they not the heart" to "they had not the heart" ("had" is missing from Street & Smith edition but was present in original Family Story Paper appearance—thanks to Deidre Johnson for confirming this).
Page 49, capitalized 's' in "She tore off the bed-covers."
Page 53, changed "thererefore" to "therefore" and "terrible" to "terribly."
Page 55, changed "Good-nigh" to "Good-night" and "Lilly" to "Lily."
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Page 61, changed "leige" to "liege."
Page 62, moved misplaced end quote in sentence beginning "No, I won't." and changed "Horace" to "Harold" in sentence beginning "Now, then." The "Horace" error is found in both the original Family Story Paper appearance of the novel and the later Street & Smith reprint; however, it is clearly a mistake as the character is referred to as Harold in every other instance.
Page 71, changed double quote to single quote before "And have you lost your heart?"
Page 72, changed "oblivous" to "oblivious."
Page 77, changed "necessrry" to "necessary."
Page 79, removed stray quote after "the old house with the stone wall."
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Page 81, changed "queston" to "question."
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Page 85, changed single quote to double quote after "win him from me!"
Page 87, changed "mein" to "mien."
Page 92, changed "reconnoisance" to "reconnoissance."
Page 93, added missing period to end of second paragraph.
Page 95, changed single quote to double quote after "I have not tasted food for two days!"
Page 96, changed "Colvilie" to "Colville."
Page 98, changed "Lilly" to "Lily."
Page 102, changed "braggadocia" to "braggadocio."
Page 106, changed "deamed" to "dreamed."
Page 107, changed "The" to "They" in "They had lived their evil life."
Page 109, added missing close quote after "home to your mother."
Page 112, changed "frienzied" to "frenzied."
Page 114, added missing quote after "Perhaps so."
Page 119, changed "drectly" to "directly."
Page 120, changed "disorered" to "disordered." Changed "she" to "he" after "Pray explain yourself."
Page 121, changed "Whan" to "What."
Page 124, changed "Collville's" to "Colville's" and "familar" to "familiar."
Page 133, changed "detect-tive" to "detective."
Page 138, added missing period after "her yearning look."
Page 143, changed "happest" to "happiest."
Page 3, changed "to which" to "which to" and rearranged final sentence in paragraph beginning "No, indeed." It was scrambled in the original edition.
Page 7, changed "meantim" to "meantime" and "Erscliffe" to "Ernscliffe." Added missing quotes to separate "so sweet a flower" from "Doubtless you."
Page 10, added missing open quote before "now I begin."
Page 12, added missing period after "perplexing mystery."
Page 13, added missing open quote before "Why, Papa." Changed "Sidney" to "Sydney" and "Georgiana" to "Georgina."
Page 15, changed "Sidney" to "Sydney."
Page 16, changed period to question mark after "wronged you."
Page 18, changed "confied" to "confined."
Page 19, changed "Au contrairie" to "Au contraire."
Page 23, added missing quote before "my head whirls" and changed "cologue" to "cologne."
Page 26, added missing close quote after "about my sister." Changed "stilled crowned" to "still crowned."
Page 27, changed "distaught" to "distraught."
Page 30, changed "CHAPTER IX" to "CHAPTER XI" and "endeaver" to "endeavor."
Page 33, changed "?" to "!" after "Au revoir, Mrs. Ernscliffe." Changed "?" to "." after "screams and cries."
Page 34, changed "sudder" to "shudder."
Page 35, changed "?" to "!" after "touch me."
Page 37, changed "?" to "!" after "declare to gracious."
Page 40, changed "?" to "." after "blushed deeply."
Page 41, changed "Hold you peace" to "Hold your piece."
Page 42, added missing quote after "demented little sister."
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Page 48, the "h" in "sharply" is accidentally inverted in the original book. Added a missing period at the end of the page.
Page 49, changed "?" to "!" after "I don't know what you mean."
Page 50, changed "?" to "!" after "for this cruel sin." Added missing period after "hundred dollars."
Page 52, changed "quite" to "quiet."
Page 53, Removed duplicate "she" from "she she said to herself" and added missing close quote after "will not tell her."
Page 55, changed "!" to "?" in "Who killed him?" and changed "te" to "to" in "in time to see."
Page 56, removed extraneous ", or" from sentence that originally read "walk, or at a slower and more reasonable gait."
Page 57, changed "idenity" to "identity."
Page 63, added missing open quote before "Ah, Captain Ernscliffe."
Page 64, changed "." to "?" in "Will you take me home?"
Page 67, changed "ligh" to "light." Changed "were" to "where" in "hotel where La Reine Blanche." Changed "pearl-handed" to "pearl-handled."
Page 71, joined erroneously split paragraph (starting "I could not wait") and changed single to double quote after "husband!"
Page 77, changed "did I say!" to "did I say?"
Page 80, changed "dusk" to "dusky."
Page 82, added missing quote before "what ails your husband?"
Page 84, changed "you lips" to "your lips" and "were she was playing" to "where she was playing."
Page 92, removed duplicate "the" from "told him the the truth."
Page 93, removed unnecessary quote before "Queenie lifted her head."
Page 96, changed "availabe" to "available."
Page 99, changed "CHAPTER XXXVI" to "CHAPTER XXXIV."
Page 107, added missing "to" to "not so hard to tell." Changed "?" to "!" after "hope for the best."
Page 108, removed comma from "great cruel, world."
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Page 119, changed "condemed" to "condemned."