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 of the convict prison in which her husband had been confined, and asked him for full information as to Verrell's fate.

Elisabeth passed the next few days in an anxious suspense which was fully shared in by Hepworth. At last she brought him his letters one morning with one lying uppermost which bore an official appearance. He looked from it to her face, and then gave it into her hands.

"Go away and read it," he said. "It's yours, Elisabeth. Tell me afterwards what news it contains."

Elisabeth came back after what seemed a long interval, during which he had sat staring at his untasted breakfast. He dare not lift his eyes when he heard her enter the room. She came to his side and laid the open letter before him.

"I know the worst now, sir," she said. "He is dead—there is no doubt."

She turned away and left the room. Hepworth read the letter, and knew why her voice