the silence lengthened. ned stared miserably before him, his outward eyes unseeing, but his mind's eye turned upon that scene in old saint denis cemetery. de grandin tugged and tugged again at the ends of his mustache till i thought he'd drag the hairs out by the roots. i could think of nothing which might ease the tension till:

"of course, the name cut on the tombstone was a piece of pure coincidence," i hazarded. "most likely the young woman deliberately assumed it to mislead you——"

"and the snake which threatened our young friend, he was an assumption, also, one infers?" de grandin interrupted.

"n-o, but it could have been a trick. ned saw an aged negress in the cemetery, and those old southern darkies have strange powers——"

"i damn think that you hit the thumb upon the nail that time, my friend," the little frenchman nodded, "though you do not realize how accurate your diagnosis is." to ned:

"have you seen this snake again since coming north?"

"yes," ned replied. "i have. i was too stunned to speak when i read the epitaph, and i wandered back to the hotel in a sort of daze and packed my bags in silence. possibly that's why there was no further visitation there. i don't know. i do know nothing further happened, though, and when several months had passed with nothing but my memories to remind me of the incident, i began to think i'd suffered from some sort of walking nightmare. nella and i went ahead with preparations for our wedding, but three weeks ago the postman brought me this——"

he reached into an inner pocket and drew out an envelope. it was of soft gray paper, edged with silver-gilt, and the address was in tiny, almost unreadable script:

m. édouard minton,

30 rue carteret 30,

harrisonville, n. j.

"u'm?" de grandin commented as he inspected it. "it is addressed à la fran?aise. and the letter, may one read it?"

"of course," ned answered. "i'd like you to."

across de grandin's shoulder i made out the hastily-scrawled missive:

adoré

remember your promise and the kiss of blood that sealed it.

soon i shall call and you must come.

pour le temps et pour l'éternité,

julie.

"you recognize the writing?" de grandin asked. "it is——"

"oh, yes," ned answered bitterly, "i recognize it; it's the same the other note was written in."

"and then?"

the boy smiled bleakly. "i crushed the thing into a ball and threw it on the floor and stamped on it. swore i'd die before i'd keep another rendezvous with her, and——" he broke off, and put trembling hands up to his face.

"the so mysterious serpent came again, one may assume?" de grandin prompted.

"but it's only a phantom snake," i interjected. "at worst it's nothing more than a terrifying vision——"

"think so?" ned broke in. "d'ye remember rowdy, my airedale terrier?"

i nodded.

"he was in the room when i opened this letter, and when the cottonmouth appeared beside me on the floor he made a dash for it. whether it would have struck me i don't know, but it struck at him as he leaped and caught him squarely in the throat. he thrashed and fought, and the thing held on with locked jaws till i grabbed a fire-shovel and made for it; then, before i could strike, it vanished.

"but its venom didn't. poor old rowdy was dead before i could get him out of the house, but i took his corpse to doctor kirchoff, the veterinary, and told him rowdy died suddenly and i wanted him to make an autopsy. he went back to his operating-room and stayed there half an hour. when he came back to the office he was wiping his glasses and wore the most astonished look i've ever seen on a human face. 'you say your dog died suddenly—in the house?' he asked.

"'yes,' i told him; 'just rolled over and died.'

"'well, bless my soul, that's the most amazing thing i ever heard!' he answered. 'i can't account for it. that dog died from snake-bite; copperhead, i'd say, and the marks of the fangs show plainly on his throat.'"

"but i thought you said it was a water moccasin," i objected. "now doctor kirchoff says it was a copperhead——"

"ah hah!" de grandin laughed a thought unpleasantly. "did no one ever tell you that the copperhead and moccasin are of close kind, my friend? have not you heard some ophiologists maintain the moccasin is but a dark variety of copperhead?" he did not pause for my reply, but turned again to ned:

"one understands your chivalry, monsieur. for yourself you have no fear, since after all at times life can be bought too dearly, but the death of your small dog has put a different aspect on the matter. if this never-to-be-sufficiently-anathematized serpent which comes and goes like the bo?te à surprise—the how do you call him? jack from the box?—is enough a ghost thing to appear at any time and place it wills, but sufficiently physical to exude venom which will kill a strong and healthy terrier, you have the fear for mademoiselle nella, n'est-ce-pas?"

"precisely, you——"

"and you are well advised to have the caution, my young friend. we face a serious condition."

"what do you advise?"

the frenchman teased his needlepoint mustache-tip with a thoughtful thumb and forefinger. "for the present, nothing," he replied at length. "let me look this situation over; let me view it from all angles. whatever i might tell you now would probably be wrong. suppose we meet again one week from now. by that time i should have my data well in hand."

"and in the meantime——"

"continue to be coy with mademoiselle nella. perhaps it would be well if you recalled important business which requires that you leave town till you hear from me again. there is no need to put her life in peril at this time."