The sound seemed to
proceed from the window.
Glancing toward it, the would-be homicide saw on the pane, written in
letters of blood:
"_Murderer, beware! The hounds of justice are on your trail, and will
strike when you least expect it!_"
Slowly the words faded out, yet Andrew Barkswell stood there, riveted to
the floor, staring as though petrified into a marble image.
"Heavens!"
With this one exclamation Barkswell sprang forward and gazed out into the
night. He thought he saw a form moving away in the gloom. He threw up the
sash and called after the form, but no answer came back, and then he
dropped the sash, waking his wife.
"Delusion!" he muttered under his breath; and yet he trembled and was
very pale.
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE PLOTTER'S VICTORY.
Rose Alstine did not visit the widow in her prison home for some days
after her encounter with the counterfeit August Bordine. In fact, she was
quite ill for a time, and kept her room, refusing to see any one, not
excepting her cousin Janet.
"What a tormented little fool," declared the old maid.
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