HURLED OVER THE FALLS.

Frederick had intended to leave San Francisco on the following day for the Atlantic coast. He was seized, however, that same night with a severe attack of fever, which kept him confined to his bed for over a fortnight. As soon, however, as he had sufficiently recovered to be able to travel, he betook himself to the offices of the railway company and purchased a ticket for New York, engaging for himself the private saloon on board the sleeping-car. On the next night he took the ferry-boat over to Oakland, and embarked on the transcontinental express. Among his fellow-passengers were a couple of young English noblemen, who had been visiting the Yosemite Valley, and who were now on their way to Ottawa. Frederick soon became acquainted with them, and created the most favorable impression. The name under which he introduced himself to them was the Comte de Vaugedale, and he gave them to understand that he was traveling around the world for his health. As both his manners and appearance bespoke every trace of aristocratic birth and breeding, and as he seemed to have plenty of money, the young Englishmen saw no cause to treat him with the distrust and suspicion which foreigners ordinarily experience at the hands of the subjects of her britannic majesty.

The time was spent in playing whist and ecarte, games at which Frederick, who was an exceedingly wealthy man, could afford to lose in such a cool manner as to attract the admiration of his fellow-travelers. So agreeable did they find their new acquaintance, that they prevailed upon him to accompany them to Canada, instead of going straight to New York, as had been originally his intention.

In due time they arrived at Ottawa, having spent a few days en route at Salt Lake City, Omaha, and Chicago.

During the two weeks which they spent in the Canadian capital, they were most hospitably entertained by various persons of high birth and breeding in that city. They were also included among the guests at the ball given by the governor-general at Rideau Hall, where the man who, as “Prado,” was some years later to suffer an ignominious death at the hands of M. Deibler (the Paris executioner) had the honor of dancing with the illustrious personage who at that time graced the vice-regal mansion with her presence.

At the conclusion of their visit to Ottawa, the three young men started for Niagara Falls, which they were anxious to see, and on arriving there, took up their residence at one of the principal hotels on the Canadian side of the cataract.

The day after their arrival was spent in visiting the Cave of the Winds, and other sights of the place. That same evening, after dinner, Frederick, leaving his two friends playing billiards at the hotel, lighted a cigar, and strolled down toward the Falls. As he was walking along the edge of the precipitous bank of the mighty torrent, he suddenly heard footsteps advancing toward him from the opposite direction. Raising his eyes to see who the stranger might be, he recognized, to his horror, in the bright moonlight, the last person on earth whom he wished to meet—the husband of Nina, Mr. Van der Beck.

Frederick hoped that Nina's husband would fail to recognize him, and pulling his hat down over his eyes quickened his pace for the purpose of preventing the latter from obtaining a glimpse of his features. His onward course, however, was brought to a sudden stop by Mr. Van der Beck, who, courteously raising his hat, requested him to give him a light for his cigar. As the two men stood face to face, the moon, which for a moment past had been obscured by a fleeting cloud, suddenly shone forth again, casting its bright rays full on Frederick's face.

With a hoarse cry, the old man started back when he recognized the man who had so grievously wronged him. His face assumed a terrible expression; his eyes glittered fiercely, and, trembling with suppressed fury from head to foot, he seemed for a moment unable to speak.

The situation was truly an awful one for both.

In striking contrast with the violent passions which surged in the breasts of both the husband and lover of the ill-fated Nina Van der Beck was the deep calm and loveliness of the scene around them. Not a breath of wind stirred the lofty branches of the trees. The moon was sailing majestically across the dark heavens, shedding a light so bright and pure that every blade of grass, every pebble in the path was distinguishable in the silvery sheen. Many feet beneath them, they could hear the mighty rush of waters as they sped on their tumultuous course between their rocky banks, and from a short distance off came the dull and unceasing roar of the great Niagara Falls.

At length Mr. Van der Beck broke the silence and exclaimed in a dry, hollow voice:

“I have caught you at last, Frederick Gavard. My hour has come! God help you, for I have much to avenge.”

Frederick, who had by this time regained all his habitual composure, contemptuously shrugged his shoulders and replied with a sneer:

“This is rather melodramatic, Mr. Van der Beck. May I inquire how you propose to take your revenge? I can make some allowance for your feelings. I quite realize that the role of a betrayed husband has its drawbacks, but——”

“Silence! How dare you add insult to the bitter injury you have done to me. Have you no atom of feeling left? When you think of the unhappy woman you have ruined—of the friend you have betrayed—dishonored—robbed—yes, robbed, not only of his wife, but of his fortune! Do you suppose that I shall allow you to escape unpunished?—you who have shattered my life and killed the woman I loved so passionately.”

With these words Mr. Van der Beck took a step toward Frederick and raised his hand in a threatening manner.

“Stay, you old fool! You do not know what you are talking about. You had best not tempt me too far. I am not in a mood to be trifled with,” retorted the young man, defiantly.

“Neither am I!” exclaimed the infuriated Mr. Van der Beck. “You have in your possession still a part of my fortune. I will have you arrested as a robber and a thief if I do not kill you before then, as the destroyer of my happiness. But whatever happens you shall not escape me.”

Frederick uttered a short mocking laugh.

“I have followed you half across the world,” continued Mr. Van der Beck, “and I swear by Heaven that I will put a stop to your shameless career and hinder you from doing any further harm.”

The old man looked so awful in his anger that Frederick involuntarily recoiled. They were now standing on the edge of the path and within a few feet of the brink of the yawning abyss beneath him. Mr. Van der Beck violently grasped the young man by the shoulder, exclaiming:

“Come with me. It is of no use to resist. I am armed; and, though I am but a feeble old man compared to you, you will have to follow me.”

Saying this, he pulled a revolver from his breast-pocket and leveled it at Frederick's breast.

A fiendish expression swept over the young man's features. With one swift blow of his arm he dashed the weapon from Mr. Van der Beck's hand, and, seizing him in his iron grasp, he pushed him toward the precipice. There was a short struggle, during which the moon was once again obscured by a fleecy cloud. Twice a cry for help rang through the still night air; twice the two men, struggling frantically, almost rolled together over the brink. But at last, putting forth all his strength, Frederick actually lifted his adversary by the waist from the ground and with one mighty effort hurled him into the surging waters below. There was a crash of falling stones, an agonized cry, which was heard even above the roar of the cataract, and a splash.

Then all was silent again.

In the woods an owl hooted twice dismally, and a dog in the distance uttered that peculiar howl which is only heard when the Angel of Death passes through the air.

When the moon shone forth again Frederick might have been seen picking up the revolver which had belonged to Mr. Van der Beck from the ground. After hesitating for a minute he flung it into the river. Then, having arranged as best he could the disorder of his dress occasioned by the struggle, he turned on his heels and walked back slowly to the hotel, muttering to himself as he went:

“It was his own fault. What need had he to cross my path? However, it is best so. Dead men tell no tales.”

When Frederick re-entered the billiard-room at the hotel his friends noticed that he was very pale. He called for a glass of brandy, and when it was brought drained it at one gulp.

“My dear boy,” exclaimed one of the young Englishmen, “what the duse is the matter with you? Have you seen a ghost? How ill you look!”

“Oh, there is nothing much the matter with me,” replied Frederick. “I suppose I have caught a chill; it is fearfully damp about here.”

“You should have remained with us. We have had a stunning game.”

“Well, I am glad, all the same, that I went. The view of the falls by moonlight is well worth seeing. Yes,” added Frederick, abstractedly, “on the whole, I am glad I went.”