letter on which the caricature had been drawn that very morning)
were torn up, and one was marked. Then all were folded up again,
looking exactly alike. They were shuffled together in a hat. The
gas was extinguished; each drew out a paper. The gas was
re-lighted. Then each went as far as he could from his fellows, and
examined the paper he had drawn without saying a word, and with a
countenance as stony and immovable as he could make it.

Then, still rigidly silent, they each took up their hats and went
every one his own way.

He who had drawn the marked paper had drawn the lot of the assassin!
and he had sworn to act according to his drawing! But no one, save
God and his own conscience, knew who was the appointed murderer.



XVII. BARTON'S NIGHT-ERRAND,

"Mournful is't to say Farewell,
Though for few brief hours we part;
In that absence, who can tell
What may come to wring the heart!"
--ANONYMOUS.

The events recorded in the last chapter took place on a Tuesday. On
Thursday afternoon Mary was surprised, in the midst of some little
bustle in which she was engaged, by the entrance of Will Wilson. He
looked strange, at least it was strange to see any different
expression on his face to his usual joyous beaming appearance. He