As he turned to lower the gas he noticed something on the door-sill; he picked it up; it was a telegram addressed to him. As he tore it open his heart was beating wildly, although he knew not why. The words seemed to speak out loud to him, startling and clear; but, strange to say, without at first a meaning. He read them gasping; then he closed the door softly and sat down on the edge of the bed, holding the bit of flimsy paper in his shaking fingers. He read the words again:
"Bad news. M. ran off with S. T. Saunders, of Snood & Co., last night. Mother and me heart broke. Will write.
Now he knew what it meant he was free! He felt as if he had received a blow a blow that he could not return; yet no rage at being robbed grew within him.
The cheering and shouts waxed louder, but Hart did not hear them. So complex were his feelings that a thought uppermost one moment would be pushed out by another the next; the blood went in surges through his veins; a pain came through his temples. To a healthy man
