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and sunshine into my life。 No！ No！
I can not； will not give you up；'' then
placing the violin and bow in its case he
locked it。
The day was breaking。 In an hour
the baker's boy came。 Diotti went to
the door； gave him a note addressed to
Mr。 Wallace and asked him to deliver it
at once。 The boy consented and drove
rapidly away。
Within an hour Mr。 Wallace arrived；
Diotti told the story of the night。 After
the undertaker had taken charge of the
body he found on the dead man's neck；
just to the left of the chin； a dullish；
black bruise which might have been
caused by the pressing of some blunt
instrument； or by a man's thumb。 Considering
it of much importance； he notified
the coroner； who ordered an inquest。
At six o'clock that evening a jury was
impaneled； and two hours later its
verdict was reported。
XIII
On leaving the house of the dead man
Diotti walked wearily to his hotel。
In flaring type at every street corner he
saw the announcement for Thursday
evening； March thirty…first； of Angelo
Diotti's last appearance： ‘‘To…night I
play for the last time；'' he murmured in
a voice filled with deepest regret。
The feeling of exultation so common
to artists who finally reach the goal of
their ambition was wanting in Diotti this
morning。 He could not rid himself of
the memory of Sanders' tragic death。
The figure of the old man clutching the
violin and staring with glassy eyes into
the dying fire would not away。
When he reached the hotel he tried to
rest； but his excited brain banished
every thought of slumber。 Restlessly
he moved about the room； and finally
dressing； he left the hotel for his daily
call on Mildred。 It was after five o'clock
when he arrived。 She received him coldly
and without any mark of affection。
She had heard of Mr。 Sanders' death；
her father had sent word。 ‘‘It shocked
me greatly；'' she said； ‘‘but perhaps the
old man is happier in a world far from
strife and care。 When we realize all the
misery there is in this world we often
wonder why we should care to live。''
Her tone was despondent； her face was
drawn and blanched； and her eyes gave
evidence of weeping。
Diotti divined that something beyond
sympathy for old Sanders' sudden death
racked her soul。 He went toward her
and lovingly taking her hands； bent low
and pressed his lips to them； they were
cold as marble。
‘‘Darling；'' he said； ‘‘something has
made you unhappy。 What is it？''
‘‘Tell me； Angelo； and truly； is your
violin like other violins？''
This unexpected question came so
suddenly he could not control his agitation。
‘‘Why do you ask？'' he said。
‘‘You must answer me directly！''
‘‘No； Mildred； my violin is different
from any other I have ever seen；'' this
hesitatingly and with great effort at
composure。
‘‘In what way is it different？'' she
almost demanded。
‘‘It is peculiarly constructed； it has
an extra string。 But why this sudden
interest in the violin？ Let us talk of
you； of me； of both； of our future；'' said
he with enforced cheerfulness。
‘‘No； we will talk of the violin。 Of
what use is the extra string？''
‘‘None whatever；'' was the quick reply。
‘‘Then why not cut it off？''
‘‘No； no； Mildred； you do not
understand；'' he cried； ‘‘I can not do
that。''
‘‘You can not do it when I ask it？''
she exclaimed。
‘‘Oh Mildred； do not ask me； I can
not； can not do it；'' and the face of the
affrighted musician told plainer than
words of the turmoil raging in his soul。
‘‘You made me believe that I was the
only one you loved；'' passionately she
cried； ‘‘the only one； that your happiness
was incomplete without me。 You led
me into the region of light only to make
the darkness greater when I descended
to earth again。 I ask you to do a simple
thing and you refuse； you refuse because
another has commanded you。''
‘‘Mildred； Mildred； if you love me do
not speak thus！''
And she； with imagination greater than
reasoning power； at once saw a Tuscan
beauty and Diotti mutually pledging their
love with their lives。
‘‘Go；'' she said； pointing to the door；
‘‘go to the one who owns you； body and
soul； then say that a foolish woman threw
her heart at your feet and that you
scorned it！'' She sank to the sofa。
He went toward the door； and in a
voice that sounded like the echo of
despair； protested： ‘‘Mildred； I love you；
love you a thousand times more than I
do my life。 If I should destroy the
string； as you ask； love and hope would
leave me forevermore。 Death would
not be robbed of its terror！'' and with
bowed head he went forth into the twilight。
She ran to the window and watched
his retreating figure as he vanished。
‘‘Uncle Sanders was right； he loves
another woman； and that string binds them
together。 He belongs to her！'' Long
and silently she stood by the window；
gazing at the shadowing curtain of the
coming night。 At last her face softened。
‘‘Perhaps he does not love her now； but
fears her vengeance。 No； no； he is not
a coward！ I should have approached
him differently； he is proud； and maybe
he resented my imperative manner；''
and a thousand reasons why he should
or should not have removed that string
flashed through her mind。
‘‘I will go early to the concert to…
night and see him before he plays。
Uncle Sanders said he did not touch that
string when he played。 Of course he
will play on it for me； even if he will not
cut it off； and then if he says he loves
me； and only me； I will believe him。 I
want to believe him； I want to believe
him；'' all this in a semi…hysterical way
addressed to the violinist's portrait on
the piano。
When she entered her carriage an hour
later； telling the coachman to drive direct
to the stage…door of the Academy； she
appeared more fascinating than ever before。
She was sitting in his dressing…room
waiting for him when he arrived。 He
had aged years in a day。 His step was
uncertain； his eyes were sunken and his
hand trembled。 His face brightened as
she arose； and Mildred met him in the
center of the room。 He lifted her hand
and pressed a kiss upon it。
‘‘Angelo； dear；'' she said in repentant tone；
‘‘I am sorry I pained you this afternoon；
but I am jealous； so jealous of you。''
‘‘Jealous？'' he said smilingly； ‘‘there
is no need of jealousy in our lives； we
love each other truly and only。''
‘‘That is just what I think； we will
never doubt each other again； will we？''
‘‘Never！'' he said solemnly。
He had placed his violin case on the
table in the room。 She went to it and
tapped the top playfully； then suddenly
said： ‘‘I am going to look at your violin；
Angelo；'' and before he could interfere；
she had taken the silken coverlet off and
was examining the instrument closely。
‘‘Sure enough； it has