before it should go any further; but the woman was so beautiful that
my native gallantry and delicacy would not allow me to repulse her; my
finer feelings entirely overcame my judgment. The warning also opened
my eyes sufficiently to see that though my artistic temperament and
skill made me interesting and attractive to the woman, she was, after
all, using me only to excite the jealousy of her companion and revenge
herself upon him. It was this surly, black despot who held sway over
her deepest emotions.

One night, shortly afterwards, I went into the "Club" and saw the
"widow" sitting at a table in company with another woman. She at once
beckoned for me to come to her. I went, knowing that I was committing
worse than folly. She ordered a quart of champagne and insisted that
I sit down and drink with her. I took a chair on the opposite side of
the table and began to sip a glass of the wine. Suddenly I noticed by
an expression on the "widow's" face that something had occurred.

I instinctively glanced around and saw that her companion had just
entered. His ugly look completely frightened me. My back was turned to
him, but by watching the "widow's" eyes I judged that he was pacing
back and forth across the room. My feelings were far from being
comfortable; I expected every moment to feel a blow on my head. She,
too, was very nervous; she was trying hard to appear unconcerned, but
could not succeed in hiding her real feelings. I decided that it was
best to get out of such a predicament even at the expense of appearing
cowardly, and I made a motion to rise. Just as I partly turned in my
chair, I saw the black fellow approaching; he walked directly to our
table and leaned over. The "widow" evidently feared he was going to
strike her, and she threw back her head. Instead of striking her he
whipped out a revolver and fired; the first shot went straight into