"John Langdon, a Harvard student, was arrested on the complaint of

Bertha Harris, a young woman, well known in Boston's gas-light circles,

yesterday evening. They had been dining together at a well-known chop

house, when the woman, who appeared to be slightly under the influence

of liquor, suddenly arose and declared that Langdon was trying to rob

her.

"Both were arrested on the charge of creating a disturbance. At the

State Street Police Station the woman said that Langdon had performed a

mock marriage for a fellow student some four months ago. She had acted

as a witness, for which service she was to receive $50. The money had

never been paid. She stated further that the young man, whom Langdon

is alleged to have married, is the son of a wealthy Boston banker, and

the young woman who was thus deceived is a young relative of one of

Boston's social leaders.

"Later Bertha Harris withdrew her charges, saying she was intoxicated

when she made them. The affair has created a profound sensation."

"Mock marriage!" The words whirled before the girl's eyes in letters

of fire. Bertha Harris! Yes, that was the name. It had struck her at

the time when Sanderson dropped the ring. Langdon had said "Bertha

Harris has found it."

The light of her reason seemed to be going out. From the blackness

that engulfed her, the words "mock marriage" rang in her ear like the

cry of the drowning.

"God, oh God!" she called and the pent up agony of her wrecked life was

in the cry.

They found her senseless a moment later, staring up at the ceiling with

glassy eyes, the crumpled paper crushed in her hand.

"She is dead," wailed her mother. The old servant wasted no time in

words. She lifted up the fragile form and laid it tenderly on the bed.

Then she raised the window and called to the first passerby to run for

the nearest doctor.




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