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Pinkerton, A. Frank [pseud.]

"Or, The Crime of the Midnight Express"


"Thank you; and if I can aid, rely on my help," Lianor murmured,
bravely.
Then, bending reverently to press a last kiss on the pallid brow, she
allowed Diniz to lead her from the room to her own home.
In the hall they were met by Don Garcia, in a terrible state of
anxiety for his daughter.
"Where have you been, Lianor? What is the matter? You look ill! And
what is that?" pointing to a vivid red stain which marred the white
purity of her dress.
A low, delirious laugh broke from the girl's pale lips, and,
stretching out her arms, she waved Don Garcia back.
"Do not touch me!" she cried, hoarsely. "He--my love, my darling--is
dead! See, his life-blood stains my hands--my robe! Oh, heavens, that
I should have lived to know such agony!"
She stopped; the outstretched arms fell inertly down, the graceful
head drooped, and without one cry or moan, Lianor fell heavily to the
ground--unconscious.
"Explain, Savitre--Sampayo, what means this strange raving? Who is
dead?" Don Garcia said, fearfully.
"It means that Luiz Falcam was found murdered this morning! Your
daughter went to see him for the last time, and returns, overcome with
grief and sorrow."
Without a word, but very white, the viceroy carried his child to her
room, and left her in the care of Savitre and her two attendants,
while he went to find the particulars of Falcam's tragic end.


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