And yet if there's a hotel fire in San Francisco to-night she's got to bleed again, you mark my words.

Perfect ass; they say she's got diamonds in every hotel in the country." When they arrived at the scene of the fire the poor old earl took one glimpse at the melancholy morgue and turned away his face overcome by the spectacle.

He said: "It is too true, Hawkins--recognition is impossible, not one of the five could be identified by its nearest friend.

You make the selection, I can't bear it." "Which one had I better--" "Oh, take any of them.

Pick out the best one." However, the officers assured the earl--for they knew him, everybody in Washington knew him--that the position in which these bodies were found made it impossible that any one of them could be that of his noble young kinsman.