ARREST EVADED.

The transcontinental express was speeding on its way along the banks of the mighty River Ganges, between Agra and Benares, on a dark night at the beginning of the rainy season. On reaching Allahabad two English officers boarded the train, and on displaying their tickets were shown to their places in one of the three roomy compartments of the luxuriously appointed sleeping-cars.

The lamp was shaded by a green silk blind, and the hermetically closed gauze musquito curtains of one of the upper berths indicated that it was tenanted by a sleeping traveler.

Not having very far to go, the new-comers stretched themselves on their couches without undressing and began to converse in a low tone of voice.

“Have you heard about this terrible business at Baroda?” inquired the taller of the two.

“No,” replied the other. “I am only just down from the hills and have hardly seen a newspaper or spoken to a civilized being since we landed at Bombay.”

“Well,” continued the former, “do you remember that young German Count whom we had on board on our voyage out and who‘rooked’ us so terribly at cards?”

“By Jove, I should think I did! Why, he won a couple of hundred off me. Never saw such infernal luck. Wasn't his name Dalberg or Waldberg, or something of the kind? He was awfully spooney on old Fitzpatrick's pretty daughter, now that I think of it. What's become of the fair Florence?”

“She's dead, poor girl.”

“Dead! You don't mean to say so! Why, she looked the very embodiment of health and happiness on board. What on earth did she die of?”

“Well, the story is a sad one, and makes my blood boil whenever I think of it. It appears that old Fitzpatrick invited Waldberg, whose father he had met in Europe, to visit him at Baroda, and had him staying at his house for quite a number of weeks. The only return which the cursed scoundrel saw fit to make for all the hospitality and kindness lavished on him by the colonel was to betray the latter's daughter under a promise of marriage.

“Unable to conceal her shame any longer, and driven to desperation by the sudden disappearance of her lover from Baroda, the poor girl committed suicide. She was seen by some natives, who were on their way down the river, to throw herself into the stream, but on quickly rowing to the spot they were unable to find any trace of her body, which had evidently been dragged under by the crocodiles which infest the Wishwamitra.

It is said that she left a letter imploring her father's pardon, and stating the reasons which had led her to put an end to her life. The old man's grief, I hear, is something heart-rending, and in the agony of the first moments, he allowed the secret of his daughter's ruin by Count von Waldberg to escape his lips. His frenzy against the latter is beyond all description, and he has sworn to hunt him down, wherever he may have fled to, to bring him to account.”

While Captain Clery—for it was he—was in the act of thus describing the fate of poor Florence Fitzpatrick, the curtains of the upper berth were slightly pushed aside, and the head of a man might have been seen to bend forward as he listened intently to the story. But at the last words thereof he hurriedly closed the curtains again and disappeared from view.

This incident had escaped the notice of the two officers, and Captain Clery continued as follows:

“But this is not all. There are some very ugly suspicions concerning Waldberg in connection with the murder of a rich Hindoo widow, who was found dead, with her skull fractured, among the ruins of an ancient temple, in a wood adjoining the Fitzpatrick bungalow. Her servants have since made disclosures which conclusively prove that Waldberg had been her lover during almost the entire period of his stay at Baroda. A quarter of an hour before her body was discovered, Waldberg is said to have visited her apartments alone, and a considerable amount of money and jewels are ascertained to have been abstracted therefrom. Moreover, in the letter which Florence left for her father she hinted that one of the reasons of her suicide was that she believed her lover to have been guilty of a terrible crime and declared that her last interview with him had taken place near the ruins of the temple above mentioned, just before the body of the murdered woman was discovered. An unfortunate Bengalee beggar, who was found hovering over the corpse of the widow as if about to rob it of its jewels, was publicly put to death a few days later on the charge of having killed her. The execution took place in the presence of Waldberg, who is now believed to have been the real assassin and who was invited by the Guicowar to witness the horrible scene. It appears that the count was unable to bear the sight, and that he fainted away, creating a great commotion thereby. A few hours later he suddenly left Baroda, informing the colonel by letter that he was called away on most urgent business. He has not been heard of since, but the police are on the look out for him.”

A few minutes later the train steamed into the station of Allahabad, and the two officers, gathering up their cloaks, swords, and other traps, left the sleeping-car.

As soon as the express had again started on its way to Calcutta the man who had displayed such an intense interest in the conversation of Captain Clery and his friend cautiously descended from his berth and began to dress himself as noiselessly as possible. Drawing the blind aside for a moment from the lamp, the dim light thereof revealed the features of Frederick von Waldberg. As soon as he had finished dressing he repaired to the cabinet de toilette of the sleeping-car, taking with him a small leather dressing-case. When he emerged therefrom a few minutes later it was to be seen that he had shaven off the short beard which he had allowed to grow during his stay at Baroda. Anxious, however, to avoid attracting the attention of the conductor to this metamorphosis, he threw a light Inverness cape overcoat over his shoulders, pulled the collar over his ears, and, drawing his soft felt traveling hat low down over his eyes, sat motionless in a corner, apparently fast asleep.

The morning after his arrival at Calcutta, Frederick took passage on a sailing ship bound for Havre. He was dressed in the garb of a workingman, and gave his name as Franz Werner, and his trade as that of a painter and decorator. He informed the skipper that, his health having been broken by a long stay in the murderous climate of Bengal, the doctor had prescribed the long sea voyage round the Cape as his only hope of recovery. He gave this as the reason for his preferring to return to Europe by a sailing ship instead of by one of the mail steamers via the Suez Canal.

Once again Frederick had succeeded in evading capture and arrest for his crimes.