AN UNFORTUNATE GOODWOOD.

R. JOHN GAMBLE of No. 4 Montmorency Terrace, in Burgwostown, had deceived his wife. When he told her that he had to leave town on important business, and would not be back until the next day, he really was going to Goodwood | with a few jolly fellows, with whom he intended afterwards to spend a bachelor evening. His wife was usually annoyed when important business called John away-which it invariably did about the time of the great race meeting --but on this occasion she did not seem to be particularly upset.

"And you'll not be able to be back tonight?" she asked.

'No, my dear," replied John. "Can't you possibly manage it?" she inquired.

'No, my dear, it's impossible. But why do you ask?"

"Oh,” she said, in a tone of regret, which he easily saw was only meant to hide her pleasure, "I don't like you sleeping away from home. If you could only get back, I shouldn't mind how late it was; I would wait up for you."

"It would be no use," answered John. "I'm certain to be detained over night." John Gamble and his wife had been married nearly twelve years, and on the whole they had led a very happy life. With the exception of one quarrel-produced through his mother-in-law's remonstrance with John for his fondness for betting-he and his wife had not had a single serious disagreement since their wedding. The one quarrel, however,

NO. 7.

promised at one time to be serious enough; and as both John and his motherin-law were thoroughly exasperated, no one could say how it would have ended had not Mrs. Gamble, just when it was reaching a crisis, brought it to a happy conclusion by deserting to her husband and turning her arms-or rather her tongue-against her mother, whom she herself had induced to begin the conflict. Since then Mr. and Mrs. Gamble had been on good terms, but Mrs. Gamble's mother had ceased to visit them.

Recently, however, another event had occurred which seemed likely to disturb the domestic happiness of Mr. John Gamble. A young doctor of handsome appearance and engaging manners had come to reside at the other end of Montmorency Terrace at No. 17. In an evil moment John Gamble had called in young Doctor Skelton to attend his wife, and he had apparently made his presence exceptionally agreeable to her, for she ever afterwards refused to consult any other physician. Yet although she was continually praising his skill, John Gamble could not help noticing that since he began to attend her and the children they appeared to suffer more than ever from ill health. At any rate, they seemed to need much more medical attendance; for. for some months past, so chronic had sickness in the family become that Dr. Skelton had found it necessary to pay a long visit every day. John Gamble was naturally of a jealous and suspicious temperament, and he noticed the increasing intimacy between his wife and the doctor with anything but pleasure. As yet he had not felt justified in remonstrating concerning it with her, but he

had frequently pondered over it in private, and without its being once referred to by either of them it was steadily making the relations between them less and less cordial..

As has been said, on the morning that John Gamble told his wife he should be unable to be home that night, he noticed that she seemed rather pleased than otherwise by his announcement. Hitherto he had been accustomed on such occasions to poutings and dissatisfaction generally on her part, and although he had not altogether liked these, he disliked their absence now still more. Indeed, the change in her behavior was so complete and striking that it at once made a considerable and most unpleasant impression on his mind. That unpleasant impression was not diminished by a circumstance which subsequently occurred. As the eldest boy was leaving for school, Mrs. Gamble followed him to the door. While she was speaking to him John happened to pass through the hall. He noticed she was giving the child a letter. When she heard her husband's step she turned around hastily; and, observing that he had seen what she had been doing, she became very red. He could not help connecting this fact and her previous behavior in some way or other with her acquaintance with Dr. Skelton; but he left without saying anything about it.

All the way to Goodwood, however, he continued to think of what he had noticed much more than the races he was going to see. Again and again he tried with all his power to dismiss the whole affair from his mind, but he could not. Do as he would, it and the suspicions it had given birth to, would mingle themselves with his thoughts. He cast about in every direction for any likely and in nocent cause for his wife's conduct, but could find none. The more he thought of it the more convinced he became that that the only possible explanation of it lay in her relations with the young and handsome physician. Before he reached the course his suspicions had hardened into absolute convictions.

John's jolly friends soon discovered that John himself was anything but jolly. He did his best to participate in their gayety, but with little success. He pretended to take an interest in the races, but all the time his mind was full of the gloomy suspicions about his wife, which would, in spite of all he could do, obtrude themselves upon him. To get the

better of them he bet heavily and drank copiously. But in the pre-occupation of his mind he forgot discretion In his betting and lost more than a man in his position could well afford; and the champagne, instead of making him gay, made him quarrelsome. Over one bet he had a bitter and prolonged dispute with his oldest and best friend, Mat Owen, which seemed likely to end in a complete breach, and which was only settled with much trouble by the strenuous exertions of their common friends. At last the races were over, and John was heartily glad of it, for he had never spent a more miserable day in his existence.

He returned with the others to town, and although all day his gloomy spirits and bad temper had made him little less than an intolerable nuisance to the rest of the company, they expected he would be himself once again at supper, since there was no place where, as a rule, John Gamble showed with so much advantage as at the table. But they were doomed to disappointment. At supper John behaved much as he had done on the course. He remained silent and gloomy, never opening his mouth except to take brandy or champagne, or to contradict some of his neighbors. When at length, late in the evening, he announced that as he did not feel well he thought he would return home at once, they were all greatly relieved. He accordingly left the supper room and drove to the railway station, reaching it just in time to catch the last train for Burgewostown.

When the train arrived at the "beautiful and aristocratic suburb" of Burgewostown (as the local paper described it) it was midnight; and by the time John reached Montmorency Terrace it was close upon one o'clock. At the station he had been unable to procure a cab and so had to walk. The distance, to those who confined their peregrinations to the side-path, was only about half a mile; but as John felt impelled (probably on account of its not being properly lighted) to cross the street a hundred times in the course of the journey, it was not strange that it seemed to him at least three times that distance. When at length he came to his own house he saw how just his suspicions were. Although it was long after his wife's usual time for retiring, the drawing room on the first floor was lighted up. What could she be doing at that hour of the night? What did she mean by talking about sitting up for

him, if she did not intend to be in bed at one o'clock in the morning? He felt sure there was something wrong, and was walking forward to knock at the door when it occurred to him that if he knocked she could let out of the house any person there might be in it before he could effect an entrance. To discover really what she was doing he must surprise her; but how was he to do that? He had no latch key-even if he had, most probably the door was bolted inside. He tried the windows on the ground floor; they were all fastened. He felt fairly nonplussed. As a last resource, he resolved to go to the back of the house, get over the garden wall, and see if he could not gain admittance through some of the back windows.

He went to the back. The terrace, though not a very long one-there were only twenty houses in it-was all built on the one plan, and so, from the rear at least, it was rather difficult to distinguish the houses from each other. But, as John Gamble lived at No. 4, he was able to discover his house by counting the fourth from the end. Having in this way identified it, he scaled the garden wall. As it was only about five feet high he contrived to do this without much difficulty. Once over he made his way through the garden to the back of the house. He began trying all the windows to see if any of them had been left unfastened. To his delight, the kitchen one was unlatched. He raised it cautiously. Scrambling upon the sill-the house had no basement story-he sat there for a moment wondering how, in his present somewhat unsteady condition, he could get in without letting the window drop or making any other disturb ance, when he recollected that there was a table just below the window. He put in his foot and felt it. Considering himself now secure he slipped down upon it. As he did so the table went from beneath him, and he fell heavily and with a terrible clatter on the floor. The table had not been exactly underneath the window, and his weight coming upon it sideways had upturned it. Considerably shaken and confused by the fall he arose and listened to hear if the noise had disturbed the inmates. Apparently it had not, for he could hear no footsteps. To make sure that no one should leave the house before he got out of the kitchen, he hurriedly groped his way through the kitchen to the door, and

through the door to the bottom of the stairs. The fall seemed to have increased the effect of the drink he had taken, for in spite of all his efforts to go quietly and cautiously at every step he collided against something or other. Getting up stairs gave him still more difficulty.

At length he reached the lobby of the first floor. He stole as noiselessly as possible to the drawing room door, and listened earnestly if he could hear any sound within. There was none; but the room was still lighted. He felt now in an awkward position. He began to doubt if his suspicions were, after all, well founded. If they were he would know how to act; but if, as now seems likely, they were not, how could he explain to his wife his present position and condition? While he stood hesitating what to do, the door of the room was suddenly flung violently open, and Dr. Skelton sprang upon him. Had John been prepared for such an encounter he would probably have been more than a match for the doctor; but he was taken by surprise. Nevertheless, he made a strong resistance. He struggled fiercely and desperately; but couldn't for a moment hold his own. He felt the contest was going against him; but, just as he raised his voice for help, his antagonist lifted him bodily from the ground and threw him headlong down the stairs. He fell on the landing with terrible force, and at once became unconscious.

How long it was before he recovered consciousness John could not tell. When he did, however, he found himself lying half-stripped in bed and covered with bruises and wounds. At first he could not comprehend how he came there. The shock of his fall had driven all the events of the night out of his head. He lay for a time wondering at his position and trying to remember what had happened, but in vain. At length, through the haziness which still obscured his vision, he saw the face of Dr. Skelton bending over him. The sight of it brought back everything to his mind. He gazed on the man with loathing, and then, turning his eyes away, he thought with agony of his lost wife and the children she had disgraced. Dr. Skelton interrupted his thoughts.

"How do you feel now, Mr. Gamble?" he said gently. "I am very sorry for what has occurred. Can I do anything for you?”

"You scoundrel!" exclaimed John,