1896. 



THE AMERICAN BEE-KEEPER. 



357 



To my surprise, ho did not do or eay 

 anything violent, but weut on lighting 

 his pipe. I wa.s inwardly coupratulut- 

 ing myself on the success of the, meas- 

 ures I had taken in order to disperse the 

 cub's funereal ideas, wheu he suddenly 

 remarked: 



"This is my last pipe. " 



"Going to train for something, then?" 



"This is the last pipe I shall ever 

 smoke. " 



"You'll find it difficult to give up to- 

 bacco so suddenly. " 



He putled solemnly for a few mo- 

 ments, and then, pointing with the stem 

 of his brier to the cleared docks, ho 

 said: 



"I have eaten my last meal. " 



It now struck mo that there was some- 

 thing more than mere training in the 

 cub's self abnegation. There was that 

 in his cold blooded speeches which 

 chilled mc, which produced a curious 

 sensation in my scalp, which would 

 doubtless have caused my hair to stand 

 on end had the quantity there been suf- 

 ficient to undergo the process. I gazed 

 at him with a paling face. 



For quite three minutes he said noth- 

 ing, but smoked steadily. Feeling thor- 

 oughly uncomfortable, I took up my 

 pen and began to write. I had hardly 

 covered a line, however, when the cub 

 observed in an offhand tone : 



"In short. I am going to kill myself." 



"Nonsense!" 



I was determined not to take him 

 seriously, you see. 



"Yes, " he continued. "Either with 

 this" — drawing a little white bottle la- 

 beled poi.'suu from his waistcoat pocket — 

 "this" — producing a razor from the 

 depths of the inside breast pocket of his 

 coat — "or this" — whipping, withadex- 

 terity that would have done credit to 

 Mr. Maskelyne, a tiny revolver out of 

 some other part of his apparel. 



"You are well provided," Isaidchaff- 

 ingly, although I felt nervous at being 

 in such close proximity to so deadly an 

 Vutfit. 



"Ye.s, " he said, toying with the re- 

 volver, "I am going to make sure of it. 

 I shall first swallow the^'poison, then 

 cut my throat and then shoot myself 

 through the brain." 



He tried the edge of the razor on his 

 finger, and, uncorking the bottle, sniff- 

 ed at its contents with nn evident rplieli 



1 turned cold to my finger rips, (.ireuc 

 heavens! Was it all a dream? I rubbed 

 my eyes and gazed at the cub. No, it 

 was grim reality, every bit of it. The 

 girl had refused him, and so he had 

 concluded that the best way out of his 

 misery was to commit suicide. 



The tobacco began to hiss and burn in 

 the bottom of his pipe bowl. His last 

 smoke 'was drawing to a close. And 

 then — 



I threw him my pouch. 



"More 'baccy?" 



He placed it politely on the edge of 

 the desk. 



"No, thanks — finished now." And 

 he rose from his chair and walked to 

 the window. "I should just like to take 

 a last look at the sun shining on the 

 trees. " 



I suppose I moved, for he wheeled 

 around like lightning. 



"If you attempt to interfere with me, " 

 he said, with the same unnatural calm 

 in his voice and manner, "I'll shoot 

 you first. Worm, and myself afterward. 

 Bo pray be careful." 



"Put it off for a few minutes," I 

 begged him. ' 'I want to talk to you. 

 Just tell me what has happened." 



"I'm not in any particular hurry," 

 he observed, reseating himself, "and I 

 have no objection to telling you what 

 has happened. But nothing you can say 

 will alter my determination. This thing 

 must be — I say must be. " And he patted 

 the pocket which contained the poison. 



"Well, go ahead," I urged him. 

 "Just tell me what you did after you left 

 us so .suddenly in the Doone valley." 



"No need to detail the journey," he 

 muttered; "just a sheep walk — every 

 one goes the same way. I made tracks 

 for Southampton, caught the night boat 

 to Havre, weut on to Rouen, thence to 

 Paris, Paris to Geneva, and there I 

 was. " 



"And then, of course, you took 

 Mousie — I beg pardon. Miss Rathboue 

 — by surprise, proposed to her all in a 

 heap, and got rejected, as was quite 

 natural. You can't rush a thing like 

 that." 



"I did not meet Miss Rathbone," said 

 the cub coldly, "and I did not propose 

 to her. Getting to Geneva was one 

 thing, but finding her was quite another. 

 People go to Geneva and make excur- 

 sions al 1 round the shops. I found out the 



