At first the young man was dumfounded.

He could not believe the evidence of his own senses, when first the news was conveyed to him.
The papers contained columns concerning the young man's wonderful luck.
Those who knew Lester Armstrong said the great fortune which had come to him would not spoil him.
There was one who read this account with amazed eyes, and that was Halloran.
"Great God!" he muttered, his hands shaking, his teeth chattering.
"Kendale told me that Armstrong was taken to the hospital in a precarious condition and died there." He made all haste to Kendale's lodgings.

The latter, who was still masquerading under the name of Lester Armstrong, had been on a continuous spree ever since the night he had wedded the little beauty, and Halloran had let him take his course, saying to himself that there was plenty of time in the future to carry out their scheme.
For once he found Kendale partially sober.

He knew by Halloran's face that something out of the usual order of events had transpired.
"What is the matter ?" he cried; "what's up now ?" For answer Halloran laid the paper before him, pointing to the column, remarking, grimly: "The game's up now, and we've gone through all this trouble for nothing.
Your cousin, Lester Armstrong, is not dead, but instead is alive and well." The papers which contained the account gave another bit of unfortunate information, stating that Lester Armstrong had suffered from loss of memory since he had received the fall on that fatal night.
"Well," said Halloran, as his friend laid down the paper, "you see, the game's up." "By no means," exclaimed Kendale, perfectly sober by this time.

"It's a poor rule that won't work both ways," he added, excitedly.
"I don't understand your cause for rejoicing," returned Halloran, gloomily.
"Don't you ?" cried Kendale.