CHAPTER XIV.

ASSASSINATION.

Fisk, Mansfield and Stokes-Wilful Assassination-Jealousy-Feud Revenge-Death-Fisk shot on the Stairway of the Grand Central Hotel-Full Description of the Affair-The Wounded Man Taken to a Room-The Assassin Arrested-The Scenes at the Hotel-The Scene in the Death Chamber-The Will-A Night of Agony—The Dying Man's Statement-Public Feeling-Mrs. Fisk Arrives from Boston-The Last Moments-The Death-Viewing the Body-Removal of the Body.

Crime and its Fruits.

IN the midst of this life of rapidly shifting scenes, this whirl of business and operations unnumbered, Fisk was overtaken by this most disgraceful and dis

astrous amour.

The woman and the preferred suitor failing to overcome their victim by blackmail or by prosecution for libel, were driven to utter desperation. Fisk, more fortunate in his petitions to the "Courts of Justice, had procured the indictment of Stokes by the Grand Jury on a charge of perjury and conspiracy. An order had been issued on Saturday for the arrest of Stokes, or at least such was the report which came to his ears. He felt himself defeated at every point and driven at bay by his powerful enemy. The moment of desperation was at hand. The measure of endurance was full to the brim. The chief actor in this shameful drama had completed his engagement; the work was ended, and the workman stretched forth his hand to receive his wages-the wages of sin.

On the afternoon of this day, January 6th, at about half-past four o'clock, Mr. James Fisk, Jr., was shot in the Grand Central Hotel, Broadway, by Mr. Edward S. Stokes.

At the hour above indicated Colonel James Fisk's private coach drew up in front of the Grand Central Hotel, on Broadway. It was about the time that New York's great thoroughfare presents the pleasantest sight. Men of business were walking leisurely homeward, troops of ladies were lingering among the glories of the shops, stately carriages lined the curbstones awaiting the pleasure of their mistresses, and the color and sound of life were more subdued and harmonized than at busier hours. of the day. The rumble of the vehicles was not so noisy, for the heavy drays and trucks had done with their incessant dragging hither and thither, and had left Broadway, going home through the by-streets.

As Mr. Fisk's carriage dashed over the pavement before reaching the hotel, guided dexterously through the tide of other conveyances, a coupé, at some distance in the rear, was observed following in a mysterious manner. On the box of this coupé sat an upright and sturdy-looking man. He held the reins with a firm hand, and seemed to be looking continually at the back of the head of the coachman who was perched upon the stylish equipage of the Prince of Erie. All the way down Broadway this curious proceeding was continued. A few blocks from Bleecker street the door of the coupé was