you wanted my help in this affair; but if you don't, I am sure I shan't intrude." "That's all right," said Brenton; "come along. By the way, Speed, what do you think of that line of defence?" "Well, I don't know enough of the circumstances of the case to know what to think of it. It seems to me rather a good line." "It can't be a good line when it is not true. It is certain to break down." "That's so," said Speed; "but I'll bet you four dollars and a half that they'll prove you a raving maniac before they are through with you. They'll show very likely that you tried to poison yourself two or three times; bring on a dozen of your friends to prove that they knew all your life you were insane." "Do you think they will?" asked Brenton, uneasily. "Think it? Why, I am sure of it. You'll go down to posterity as one of the most complete lunatics that ever, lived in Cincinnati. Oh, there won't be anything left of you when _they_ get through with you." Meanwhile, Stratton was making his way to the residence of the sheriff. "Ah," said that official, when they met, "you got your letter, did you? Well, I thought you would." "If you had heard the conversation between my estimable friend Mr. Brown and myself, up to the very last moment, you wouldn't have thought it." "Well, Brown is generally very courteous towards newspaper men, and that's one reason you see his name in the papers a great deal." "If I were a Cincinnati newspaper man, I can assure you that his name wouldn't appear very much in the columns of my paper." "I am sorry to hear you say that. I thought Brown was very popular with the newspaper men. You got the letter, though, did you?" "Yes; I got it. Here it is. Read it." The sheriff scanned the brief note over, and put it in his pocket. "Just take a chair for a moment, will you, and I will see if Mrs. Brenton is ready to receive you." [Illustration: Jane.] Stratton seated himself, and, pulling a paper from his pocket, was