hesitating until the bell rang the second time, went to the door; she
remembered that the servant was out.

Caroline and her sister Emma entered the study. Caroline set the lamp on
the table. They looked at the wall, and there were two shadows. The
sisters stood clutching each other, staring at the awful things on the
wall. Then Rebecca came in, staggering, with a telegram in her hand.
"Here is--a telegram," she gasped. "Henry is--dead."



The Messenger

BY ROBERT W. CHAMBERS

Little gray messenger,
Robed like painted Death,
Your robe is dust.
Whom do you seek
Among lilies and closed buds
At dusk?

Among lilies and closed buds
At dusk,
Whom do you seek,
Little gray messenger,
Robed in the awful panoply
Of painted Death?
R.W.C.