There sat his wife, and by her side, talking earnestly, the discarded lover.

He caught his last words as he entered: "'You know how I have loved--you know how I do love, a thousand times better than he! Why should we not fly at once.

It is only torture to both to remain longer.' "They were the last words the unfortunate man ever uttered.

The gambler had been drinking--let us hope the liquor and the jealous fury made him for the time mad.

There was the flash, the report of a pistol; Crosby, his guilty wife's lover, uttered a wild yell, sprang up in the air, and fell back shot through the heart." There was another dead pause.