The group in the drawing-room gazed at Lily for a moment in mingled awe and consternation, but suddenly, before word or sound broke the trance of silence, the beautiful picture was wholly blotted out and obliterated by a blackness of darkness that filled and flooded the wide hall.
Then the sound of women's screams filled the grand drawing-room.
"Lily, Lily!" screamed Ada, throwing herself into her father's arms, while Mrs. Vance fell writhing upon the floor, shrieking in abject terror.
Lancelot Darling paused a moment to extricate himself from the clinging hands of the kneeling woman, then bounded out into the hall.
Darkness met him only as he ran excitedly up and down its length. There was no one there. The front door, standing wide open, attracted his attention. He went out on the porch and looked up and down. Just then Mr. Lawrence came out and joined in the search. There was no one passing. They went in and found Willis, the aged servitor, who had returned to his post, and was lighting up the gas again.
"Willis, what is the meaning of this?" he asked, sharply. "The hall door open, the gas out, and you absent from your post!"
"On my soul, Mr. Lawrence. I could not help it! I saw a ghost," said the man, looking about him in visible trepidation.
"Explain yourself," said his master, sternly.
"I went to answer the door-bell," said Willis, trembling, "and when I opened the door there stood a ghost, all in white, looking at me and smiling. I was so frightened I let go the door-handle and ran away; I beg your pardon for neglecting my duty, sir, and leaving the door ajar," concluded the man, humbly.
"What sort of a ghost did you see?" asked Mr. Darling.
The man's eyes grew large and wild.
"Perhaps I ought not to tell you," said he, "but, begging your pardon, Mr. Lawrence, and yours, Mr. Darling, it was the spirit of our poor lost Miss Lily!"
Mr. Lawrence grew pale as he looked at the man.
"Come, Lance; come, Willis," he said, "we will search the house from top to bottom. There is some mystery here which we may penetrate."
They looked into every room and closet, they neglected no hiding place from garret to cellar, but no one, either ghost or being, was discovered. Mr. Lawrence went up to Ada's room to see if she were recovering from her agitation.
She was lying in bed pale, but very quiet, attended by her maid. He sent the girl away, and told his daughter what Willis had seen, and how vainly they had searched the house.
"Papa, what do you think?" asked she, in low, awe-struck tones. "Was it, indeed, as the man asserts, the restless spirit of my sister? It was like her, only paler and more shadowy, as a spirit well might be."
"Ada, I do not know what to think," said her father in low, moved tones, "I am lost in a maze of doubt and conjecture. Can it be that my daughter's soul cannot rest while her poor desecrated body remains uncoffined?"
"It may be so," said Ada, weeping. "What a mournful tone was in that voice as it breathed your name!"
He started up, pacing the floor in wild agitation.
"I must go down to Lance," he said. "We will go and see the detective again to-night, and learn if any clew has been found. We must find her body if skill and money combined can accomplish it; I cannot bear for her restless soul to be seeking its body at my hands!"
Mrs. Vance had retired to her room in a state of abject terror.
She believed that she had seen and heard the veritable spirit of the girl she had murdered, instigated thereto by jealousy.
Her bold and venturesome spirit had never yet felt the promptings of remorse for her dreadful deed. She rejoiced that Lily was dead, and that the shameful stigma of suicide lay upon her memory; though she was the daily witness of the bereaved family's sorrow, though she saw that Lancelot Darling was aged as if ten years had passed over his head in the past few weeks, still she felt no grief for her sin, and kept on her resolute way, swearing in her secret soul to win the young man whom she passionately adored, and whose wealth and position made him the most eligiblepartiin the whole city. Love and ambition alike spurred her on to the attainment of her cherished object.
But the dreadful revelation of old Haidee had struck a lightning flash of terror to her guilty soul.
She had believed herself secure in her sin; she had thought it known only to herself of all the world, and the knowledge that her secret belonged to another had almost crazed her with the fear of its betrayal. She regretted that she had not followed theold witch home that day and struck another secret blow that would have sealed the old woman's lips forever.
She who had struck down so ruthlessly the fair and blooming life of Lily Lawrence would have felt no compunction in ending prematurely the old and sin-blasted existence of Haidee Leveret. All that she lacked was the chance.
Now another scathing monition had been hurled against her guilty conscience. In the hour when old Haidee's continued silence and absence had begun to inspire her with confidence again, when the wooing tones had brought Lancelot Darling to her side, when she could almost feel his breath upon her cheek as he bent to turn the pages of her music—in that supreme hour the image of the woman she hated had risen to blast her sight, and to come between her and the love she sought. It was horrible, it was maddening.
She sought her solitary apartment and flung herself face downward on the bed, afraid to lift her heavy eyes lest they should be blasted by the sight of the restless spirit which her guilty hand had driven forth a wanderer from the fair citadel it once inhabited.
"Do the dead walk?" she said to herself, in fearful agitation, "do they revisit the haunts of life and love? Do they ever return and denounce their murderers? Oh! God, why do I ask myself these fruitless questions? Do I not know? Have I not looked upon the face of the dead this night? Ah! what if she had pointed a ghostly finger at me, and said before them all, 'Thou art my murderess!'"
Shivering as if with the ague she buried her head in the bed-clothes.
A sudden rap at the door caused her to start violently.
"Enter," said she, almost inaudibly.
It was only one of the neat housemaids. She looked concerned at the ghastly white face the widow lifted on her entrance.
"Are you ill, Mrs. Vance?" she inquired.
"No—yes—that is, my head aches badly," was the confused answer.
The maid had heard the story of the ghostly visitor from Willis, and rightly attributed the agitation of the lady to that cause.
She did not allude to it, however, as Mrs. Vance did not. She simply said:
"I found this trinket in the hall as I was passing through it, Mrs. Vance. I have shown it to Miss Lawrence, but she does not know anything about it, so I came to ask if it belonged to you?"
She held the piece of gold in her hand. Mrs. Vance arose and examined it by the light.
It was the broken half of a golden locket such as gentlemen wear on their watch-chains. It was of costly workmanship, richly chased, with a delicate monogram set in minute diamonds. The intertwined letters were "H. C."
"It does not belong to me, Mary," answered Mrs. Vance. "It has probably broken off from some gentleman's watch-chain, anddropped as he was passing through the hall. But I do not know to whom it can belong. We have had no visitors to-day, and indeed I cannot recollect any acquaintance we have with the initials, 'H. C.' What do you intend to do with it?"
"I shall ask Mr. Lawrence to take charge of it as soon as he returns," replied Mary. "It may be that he can find the owner. It is quite valuable, is it not, ma'am?"
"Yes, it has some value, Mary—the monogram is set with real diamonds, though they are very small. It evidently belongs to a person of some means," said Mrs. Vance, returning the trinket to Mary's hand.
The trim little maid said a polite good-night and tripped away with the jewel carefully wrapped in a handkerchief. Mrs. Vance, with her thoughts turned into a new channel, sat musing thoughtfully over the little incident. The longer she thought it over the more mysterious it appeared.
"To whom can it belong?" said she to herself. "No gentlemen at all have called here to-day. Can it have any connection with our mysterious visitation to-night?"
Mr. Lawrence detailed to the special detective, Mr. Shelton, the particulars of his daughter's appearance that evening. He was listened to with the closest attention.
When he had concluded his story, the detective said, respectfully:
"I am a very practical man, Mr. Lawrence, and my profession only makes me more so. When I am brought in contact with a mystery I invariably suspect crime. And I must tell you that I do not believe in the visionary nature of the girl you saw in your hall this evening. I am not a believer in the supernatural."
"What then, is your opinion of the phenomenon?" inquired Mr. Lawrence.
"That it was no phenomenon at all," answered Mr. Shelton, smiling. "It was palpably an attempt at robbery. Some girl with a resemblance to your lost daughter was employed to frighten off the man at the door, while her accomplices entered the hall, turned off the light and perpetrated a burglary."
"But there was nothing stolen," objected Mr. Lawrence. "The house was searched immediately, for I had an idea rather similar to yours at first. But nothing had been taken nor was there any person concealed in the house."
The detective smiled blandly in the comfortable knowledge of his own superior wisdom.
"The thieves were only frightened off that time," said he; "they will come again, feeling secure in the belief that the girl played the ghost to perfection. The next time do not be frightened but make an instant effort to capture her, and she can soon be forced to reveal her accomplices."
"You have learned nothing yet about the grave-robbers?" asked Mr. Lawrence, dismissing the first subject, thinking itquite possible that Mr. Shelton's exposition of the case was a very correct one.
"I have found the first link in the chain," said the detective brightening up.
"You have?" said the banker, gladly.
"It is a very slight clew, though," said Mr. Shelton. "I would not have you build your hopes on it, Mr. Lawrence, for it may not lead to anything. The case is a very mysterious one, and so far has completely baffled thorough investigation."
"But that you have discovered anything at all is an earnest of hope," said the banker. "Slight things lead to great discoveries sometimes. Will you give us the benefit of your discovery?"
"It must be held in the strictest confidence," said Mr. Shelton, looking from Mr. Lawrence to Mr. Darling, who had sat quite silent throughout the interview. "Of course you know that if suffered to get abroad it would put the guilty party on their guard."
Both gentlemen promised that they would preserve inviolable secrecy.
"Briefly, then, I have learned that the sexton was bribed to lend out the key of your vault the night of the funeral, Mr. Lawrence."
"The villain!" said Mr. Lawrence, hotly.
"Softly," said the detective; "he is not so bad as you think. His error lay in the possession of a soft heart unfortunately abetted by a soft head."
"I fail to catch your meaning," said the banker.
"I mean," said the detective, "that poor old man had no thought or dream of abetting a robbery. His consent was most reluctantly forced from him by the sighs and protestations of a pretended lover, who only desired that he might be permitted to look once more on the beloved face of the dead. The sighing Romeo prevailed over the old man's scruples with his frantic appeals and obtained the key, rewarding the sexton with all a lover's generosity. It was returned to him in a short while, and so implicit was his faith in the romantic lover that he never even looked in the vault to see if all was secure. The shocking discovery made the following day by Mr. Darling and yourself so appalled him with its possibilities of harm to himself, that he feared to reveal the fact of his unconscious complicity in the theft."
"Yet he revealed it to you," said Mr. Lawrence.
"The detectives are a shrewd lot for worming secrets out of people," said Shelton, with one of his non-committal smiles. "I used muchfinessewith the old man before I made my discovery. I suppose I may feel safe in supposing that you will not molest him at the present critical time? Much depends on secrecy."
"The case is in your hands—rest assured I shall not make any disastrous move in it," returned Mr. Lawrence, reassuringly.
"One thing further," said Mr. Shelton. "I learned that the man who enacted the hypocriticalroleof the despairing lover was tall and dark, but have not succeeded in identifying him yet. That is the meager extent of my information at present."
"I hope and trust it may soon lead to an entire elucidation of the mystery," said the banker, rising to leave.
"I will report all discoveries tending that way immediately, sir," answered the detective, bowing his visitors out of the office.
"How are you impressed with Mr. Shelton's powers as a detective, Lance?" asked Mr. Lawrence as they walked on a few blocks before hailing a car.
"I believe he is an able man, but—I am not prepared to subscribe to his theory of the event which happened to-night," was the somewhat hesitating reply of the young man.
"You are not? What, then, is your opinion?" asked the banker, in some surprise.
"Mr. Lawrence, I believe that it was really and truly our lost Lily whom we beheld to-night," said Lancelot, earnestly.
"Really and truly our Lily! Come, Lance, you talk wildly. Has your affliction turned your brain, poor boy? Recollect that Lily is dead."
"I know—I know. Who could realize that fact more forcibly than I do? But, my dear friend, I did not mean that it was Lily in the flesh. What I meant was that Lily's spirit, the better part of her which is imperishable, really and truly appeared to us to-night," said the young man, who was of a very impressive and imaginative cast of mind.
Mr. Lawrence regarded him curiously.
"But why should you persist in this belief, Lance, when the clever Mr. Shelton has so clearly shown us the fallacy of the idea?"
"He has not shown us the fallacy of the idea at all," answered Lancelot Darling earnestly, as before. "He has only given us his practical theory regarding it."
"Have you any conjecture regarding her object in so appearing to us—if, indeed, you take the right view of the matter, Lance?" asked the banker, impressed by the serious manner of his young friend.
"I have not thought of it, Mr. Lawrence. I have no distinct or tangible impression at all except this one, which is indelibly fixed on my mind. I believe that the pure, white soul of Lily Lawrence looked out visibly upon us to-night from the eyes of the girl whom we saw in the hall. I cannot be mistaken. My soul leaped forth to meet hers as it could not have done for any other woman, mortal or immortal," replied the loyal lover earnestly.
"Well, here is my car," said the banker, hastening to signal it.
"Good-night, sir," said Lance, turning a corner and going down the street toward his hotel to pass the weary night in restless tossing and sleeplessness, while visions of his beautiful lost love haunted his feverish brain until he was well-nigh driven to madness.
Mr. Lawrence went back to the detective next day with the costly broken jewel that Mary, the housemaid, had found in the hall. He explained to Mr. Shelton that no gentleman had calledat the house the day previous except Mr. Darling, who said he had never seen it before.
"This confirms my view of the case," said Mr. Shelton, triumphantly "Did I not say that the girl had one or more accomplices? This was probably dropped by the man in his hurried flight. Yet it would seem to have belonged to a person of taste and wealth. Such a one would not be engaged in burglary. The mystery only deepens."
"But may not this be a clew by which to discover the perpetrators of the dastardly act?" inquired the banker.
"It ought to do so," said the detective, frankly.
He remained lost in thought a few moments then inquired:
"Have you any acquaintance who can claim these initials, Mr. Lawrence?"
"Let me think. My circle of acquaintance is large, but I cannot recall anyone claiming H. C. as his monogram. My memory may not serve me correctly, though."
"Perhaps your card-receiver may do better, Mr. Lawrence. Will you examine that and let me know?"
"Certainly. Suppose you accompany me, and let us find out at once? I do not feel disposed to let this vexing matter rest."
"With pleasure, as I have a leisure hour at my disposal."
They returned to the house together and entered at once upon their quest.
It was not long before their labors were rewarded with success The detective looked up with a small square of pasteboard in his hand, from which he read aloud triumphantly.
"Harold Colville!"
"'H. C.' Harold Colville!" exclaimed the banker. "Why, really I had forgotten Mr. Colville."
"He visits here then, of course," said the detective.
"He did—at one time—frequently. Latterly he has discontinued his visits. Indeed, it has been four or five months since he called upon us."
"Had he any reason for the cessation of his visits?"
"Yes," said the banker, promptly. "He was a suitor for the hand of my daughter, Lily. She rejected him—being already engaged to Mr. Darling."
"I have seen Mr. Colville," said Shelton. "He is a man of wealth and leisure—dissipated and fast, I have heard."
"You have been correctly informed," was the reply.
"Indeed?" said Mr. Shelton. He laid the card back as he spoke, and rose to take leave.
"Does this discovery throw any light on the mystery?" said the other.
"I will be frank with you, Mr. Lawrence. It does not. The case seems complicated at present, but it is my business to unravel the crooked skein, and I hope to do so. You will suffer me to retain this bit of jewelry for the present. I wish to see if Mr. Colville can furnish the missing half."
"You suspect him, then—" said the banker, breaking off his sentence because perplexed how to end it.
"I suspect him of nothing at present," was the reply. "Thistrinket may have been stolen from him and lost by another, I have that to find out. If it be proved that Mr. Colville lost this locket in your hall last night, my theory of a projected theft will not hold water. A gentleman of his wealth and position would not need to descend to that phase of crime. Some other object must have actuated him."
He paused, drawing on his gloves.
"There is one thing more," he resumed. "Keep this mutual discovery we have made a dead secret until I give you leave to reveal it. Do not even mention it to your daughter or to Mr. Darling. He does not believe the theory I advanced last night. I read it in his expressive features. He thinks he really saw a spirit. Let him think so still; I am gathering the tangled ends of a fearful mystery in my hands. But if human skill can unravel it I will not fail to do so. Good-day, Mr. Lawrence."
He tripped airily away down the street with the air and manner of a well-bred gentleman. Few who saw the well-dressed man swinging his natty little cane so jauntily and wearing that supremely indifferent air would have supposed him to be the most daring and accomplished detective in the State of New York. So thought Mr. Lawrence as he watched him walk away.
The rage of old Haidee Leveret at finding herself duped and outwitted by such a weak girl as Lily Lawrence was frightful to witness and impossible to describe. She raved, she stormed, she tore her scanty gray locks and blasphemed in the most frightful and blood-curdling terms.
In vain she tried the door-handle, in vain she shook the iron bars in the window. They resisted her most vigorous efforts.
In her terrible rage she fell to breaking and tearing everything in her room that could be destroyed. She threw down the dishes containing Lily's untasted dinner and shivered them into fragments. She tore off the bed-covers and rent them in pieces in the hight of her insane fury. If Lily had fallen into her cruel hands just then she would have killed her remorselessly.
At length, having sated her rage momentarily by wreaking it on those poor inanimate things, she began to quiet down somewhat and to consider the situation.
The enemy had worsted her, that was self-evident. Stratagem had succeeded against brute force and power.
Lily Lawrence had freed herself from captivity, and there was no one to pursue her and bring her back. Old Peter was not likely to return for several hours. If Lily's strength held out she would be safe in her home ere the old man could get back to town and carry the tidings to Doctor Pratt and Harold Colville.
Harold Colville had promised the old couple a most extravagant reward for the safe-keeping of his beautiful prisoner.
Not only did the loss of this trouble the old crone's mind, but also the fact that Lily would betray them all into the hands of the police and that exposure and punishment would follow onthe discovery of the nefarious works which she and her husband had wrought for years. A species of abject terror filled her quaking frame at the thought. She thought of the miserly accumulations of her wicked life secreted beneath the roof of the old house, and dreaded lest her greedy eyes should never again be permitted to gloat over that golden hoard.
In the hight of these woful cogitations her thoughts suddenly recurred to the prisoner in the gloomy dungeon beneath her.
Poor Fanny Colville, whose hearing had been strained all day to detect the faintest sound from above, had been a frightened listener to old Haidee's fearful explosion of wrath.
She knew by the violence of the witch's rage that Lily had succeeded in her stratagem and effected her escape. The knowledge filled her with joy, even while she feared that rage would instigate Haidee to yet further cruelties against herself. The desire for life was yet strong in the breast of the poor starving creature, and she shrank in terror while she thought it was probable that old Haidee would kill her in her frantic desire to wreak vengeance upon something. Even while she shivered over her fear she heard the heavy footsteps lumbering down the stairs toward the dungeon.
"What! are you not dead yet, you she-devil?" was the fierce salutation that greeted her ears.
Her enemy advanced, and seizing hold of her crouching body as it lay upon the bed, shook it with the fury of a wild-cat until it seemed as if the poor bones must rattle. "What do you mean by living in this way? Must I kill you at last with my own hands?"
"Spare me," moaned the poor victim between her chattering teeth, "spare me yet a little longer, I am so young, and life is so sweet!"
"Sweet, you fool!" cried the old hag, desisting from sheer weariness, and letting go of the poor skeleton to glare fiercely at her. "What! Life is sweet, chained in a dungeon, in rags, on a crust of bread and a sup of water?"
"Yes, oh, yes!" faltered the poor creature, hoping to gain a little time so that deliverance from her bonds might come.
"Live then, you worm!" cried the old witch, throwing life at her poor victim with a curse. "Live as long as you can since you find it such a luxury!"
The shivering heap of rags and bones did not answer. Stamping about the floor, glaring at the frightened Fanny, her mood changed. She said retrospectively:
"After all you are not such a devil as she! You have not the spirit in your poor, crushed, beaten body! You have never even tried to escape from me and bring me to punishment! Why should I tread on you when you will not even turn like the worm? No, live, live! Never fear but you shall have your crust of bread and sup of water while Haidee remains here to bring it to you."
So saying she went out again, and Fanny wept tears of joy at her departure. But a little while now, she thought gladly, and Lily would be at home. Then to-morrow at the farthest herown deliverance would arrive. She thought of the loved ones she had never expected to see again, of the dear old mother and father in their old home in the country, and the affectionate girl's tears flowed like rain for very joy at the blissful hope of reunion.
Alas! poor Fanny!
It seemed many hours to Haidee before her husband and Doctor Pratt returned. It was very near sunset, for Doctor Pratt had been absent visiting a patient, and Peter had been forced to await his return.
When at last they came and knocked at the door she had to inform them, with a curse for every word, of Lily's escape. Then they were compelled to force the door open, for the brave girl had taken the key with her and thrown it away in the road.
As soon as Doctor Pratt heard her story he sprang into the buggy and drove into the city with furious haste in search of Colville. It was late before he found him, so that Lily was almost home before he learned the story.
"I suppose it is all up with us now," said Colville, after swearing an oath or two. "And we had better be getting away from town before we are arrested. I suppose she is at home by now."
"There is only one chance in ten that she is not," was the reply. "Her excessive weakness may have caused her to fall by the way. It seems impossible that one so debilitated by sickness should take so long a walk without resting."
"You think there is a chance of her recapture, then?" inquired Colville eagerly.
"There may be," was the cautious reply. "You see, if she is yet on the road we can watch for her near her home; and as it is getting dark it would be very easy to seize her and put her into a waiting carriage. After that there would be no difficulty. Chloroform would stifle her screams while we drove back to Leveret's with her."
"But the carriage driver, doctor. Might he not betray us?"
"I will drive my own carriage," answered Pratt. "We will stop near the corner of Mr. Lawrence's house. You will then get out and watch for her. If she should appear you will hastily throw a cloak over her head and carry her to the carriage."
"Well planned, doctor! Let us be going at once. Every moment is precious in this extremity."
"We must first purchase a bottle of chloroform, a sponge, and a long, water-proof cloak in which to envelope her form," said the doctor, recollecting precautions which Colville in his impetuosity was about forgetting.
These purchases were hastily made, and the two worthies stepped into the doctor's light carriage and drove rapidly away on their mission of evil.
They were not a minute too soon. As the carriage stopped at the corner a slight form hurried past, plainly visible in the light of the street-lamp.
"It is she!" said Pratt in a hasty whisper. He recognized her graceful form in spite of the disguising veil and sack.
Colville was stung to madness by the sight.
"I will have her," he declared with a terrible oath, "if I have to tear her from the arms of her lover!"
He sprang out and followed her. She had gone up the steps and rung the bell. Just as he came opposite the steps he saw old Willis open the door, and witnessed his headlong flight from the supposed spirit of his young mistress. As she glided into the house he ran lightly up the steps and followed her. She heard the footsteps of her pursuer and faintly moaned:
"Papa! papa!"
But in that moment, ere assistance could reach her, the gaslights were turned out by a steady hand; she was plucked backward by the skirt of her dress, and fell into Colville's arms, so muffled by the heavy cloak he threw over her that she could not breathe. Hardly clogged by the light burden in his arms he ran through the hall and down the steps before Lancelot Darling reached the door. It was but the work of a moment to reach the carriage and give his captive into the doctor's ready arms. He then sprang in himself and drove rapidly away with their beautiful captive.
Lily awakened from the temporary stupor induced by chloroform and found herself a prisoner again in the old familiar room. She was lying on the bed, and Doctor Pratt, grim, and satanic-looking as usual, sat by the side.
Harold Colville was also an occupant of the room, and Haidee Leveret, from the foot of the bed, gave her a fiendish scowl in answer to the glance she cast upon her.
"How do you feel after your journey this evening?" inquired the physician, with a sarcastic smile.
A glance of scorn from Lily's eyes fell upon him. She did not vouchsafe him any reply.
"I think you must begin to realize by this time that it is quite impossible for you to escape from us," continued Doctor Pratt. "You have now made two attempts which have resulted in nothing except to make us more vigilant than before in keeping you safely secured. Hereafter you will be doubly guarded by Haidee and Peter. He will accompany her and stand outside the room door whenever she has any business within. You are aware that the window is too heavily and strongly barred for you to tamper with it. You now see that there is no possible chance for you to make a third attempt to elude us."
There was no reply. Lily still regarded him with a flashing gaze full of scorn and contempt; but the villain went on, in no-wise disconcerted by her anger:
"It seems to me, Miss Lawrence, that your best and wisest course would be to thankfully accept Mr. Colville's proposals of marriage. Surely that cannot be such a terrible thing to do. There are many ladies who would be proud of the honor whichhe seeks to force upon you. Your former home is forever lost to you; you are as one dead to your family. They have seen you laid away in the tomb. If you went to them now they would not believe that you belonged to them; they would scout your story as impossible and yourself as an impostor. There remains, therefore, but one possible chance of restoration to your friends and to liberty, and that is to appear before them in the character of Mrs. Harold Colville."
"Mr. Colville has already had an answer to his proposals," answered Lily, firmly. "I will die before I accept liberty on these terms!"
"Do not allow any scruples in regard to Mr. Darling to influence your decision," interrupted Colville, speaking for the first time, "for I can assure you, on the honor of a gentleman, Miss Lawrence, that he has transferred his fickle affections to the wily widow who tried to murder you in order that she might steal into his heart and win his hand and fortune."
"It is false; Lancelot has not forgotten me so soon," cried Lily, warmly.
But though she defended her lover's loyalty so bravely, there flashed over her mind a remembrance of the scene she had momentarily witnessed last night—Mrs. Vance at the grand piano, playing and singing softly, her lover—her handsome, kingly Lancelot—bending over her as he turned the pages of her music.
She had thought nothing of it then; but in the light of Harold Colville's bold assertion it seemed to her terribly significant.
"I do not wonder that my assertion taxes your credulity," returned Colville, with a maddening smile. "It seemed almost beyond belief when it first came to my knowledge. Not yet three months from your supposed death, I can scarcely understand how the man who lacked but a few hours of being your husband could console himself with the smiles of another so soon. But he is young and impressible, and I grant you she is rarely beautiful, and gifted with consummate art."
"I can add my testimony to Mr. Colville's assertion," said Doctor Pratt. "Your lover has, indeed, been beguiled into forgetfulness of his grief by the fascination of the charming widow. They are now acknowledged lovers!"
"I do not believe it," answered Lily, proudly. "Do you think I would take your word, Harold Colville, or yours, Doctor Pratt, for the truth? You have proved yourselves villains, and I do not place the least confidence in your assertions. You tell me these things believing I will the more readily yield to your wishes. But you are mistaken—sadly mistaken! I tell you now that if Lancelot Darling should marry Mrs. Vance to-morrow it would not make any difference in my rejection of a villain's suit!"
Both the worthies glared at her with fierce wrath.
"So be it," said Colville, angrily. "But remember, you will remain a prisoner until you accede to my wishes, no matter how long you hold out. Haidee, you need not provide so sumptuouslyfor so contumacious a captive. Let bread and water be her portion until her rebellious spirit is broken. I will see her again in a month's time. Come, doctor; come, Haidee; let us leave her to the pleasures of solitary contemplation."
All three retired; the door, which had been provided with another key, was securely locked, and she was left again in her loneliness and bitter sorrow.
Weak and weary with her long journey and unbroken fast she lay still, her limbs aching with fatigue and her heart almost broken with sorrow.
Her momentary glimpse of her dear ones had filled her heart with a wild flood of new tenderness for them. She had come back to them from the dead, and she felt that they would have been filled with the deepest joy in receiving her again.
She had been so cruelly torn from them in the very moment when they first caught sight of her! She wondered what they would think.
"Perhaps they will share old Willis' delusion that it was a spirit," thought she, with a flood of tears.
She had almost forgotten Fanny in the bitter anguish of being retaken thus in the very moment of impending re-union with her family.
But presently she heard the clank of the poor captive's chain, as she turned restlessly on her hard bed, and caught the sound of her groans.
"Poor Fanny," she thought, "how will she bear this sad disappointment when she hoped so much from my escape!"
Weak and trembling she rose from the bed, and taking the lamp in her hand staggeringly descended the stairs in quest of her poor companion in captivity and sorrow.
Fanny lay extended on the cot, moaning piteously. She cried out in surprise and terror, fearing that Haidee had returned to threaten and abuse her. But she soon saw that it was the sweet face of the captive girl that beamed upon her.
"My God, Miss Lawrence, is it you?" she said. "I thought, I hoped that you had escaped!"
Lily threw herself down upon the hard stone floor and wept piteously. The trial was hard upon herself, as affecting her own individual welfare.
Now the burden of this poor creature's sorrow added to the weight of her own made it almost insupportable. It was some time before she could summon sufficient calmness to relate her mournful story to the suffering creature.
"It is all over," she said in conclusion. "There is no hope of escape from our prison, and death is before us."
Fanny lay still, moaning now and then in pain. She made no attempt to rise, and at last Lily noticed the fact.
"What is the matter with you, my poor soul?" said she. "Are you worse? Are you unable to rise?"
"I cannot raise my head," answered the poor girl patiently, "my poor bones have been shaken and beaten terribly by old Haidee. I am very stiff and sore."
As well as she could she related the story of old Haidee's rageat her captive's escape, her descent into the dungeon and her wild onslaught on her starving captive. Lily wept at the recital of Fanny's sufferings.
"She was wreaking her rage at my escape, upon you, poor Fanny," said she. "Oh! God, why dost thou allow the wicked thus to triumph over the weak and the innocent?"
"Are you much hurt? Do you think you can survive it?" she asked presently in anxious tones.
"I don't know. I am very sore at present. There seems very little life left in me. Perhaps it would be better if I should die," said the poor creature despondently. The little spark of hope awakened in her breast by Lily's escape was dead now, and despair had claimed her for its own. Lily knelt by the cot and felt her hands. They were cold and clammy, and chilly dews stood upon the wasted brow. Lily started. Could this be death that was stealing over the poor captive? She feared it was, but she was afraid to linger longer lest old Haidee should find her out. She rose reluctantly.
"I wish I could stay with you, Fanny," said she. "It seems hard to leave you suffering thus alone. But if old Haidee should find me, she might kill you for fear I should betray her. So it seems that I must go. Good-night."
Lily took the poor, wasted hand and pressing it gently, went away, fearing that the few sands of life remaining to Harold Colville's injured wife were fast running out.
About a month subsequent to the events which have been related in the last chapter, Mrs. Vance and Ada Lawrence sat alone in the drawing-room of their splendid home. Ada had been reading, but the volume seemed to have little interest, for it had fallen from her hands to the floor, and she was reclining on a luxurious divan, looking bored and sad, while now and then a low sigh rippled across her coral lips.
She was very lovely, being a pure blonde with red and white complexion and hair of golden tint. Her face looked flower-like in its delicacy, gleaming out from the somber folds of her mourning dress.
Mrs. Vance, sitting opposite, absorbed in a voluminous billow of crimson crochet work, looked over at her, and started as if she had only just begun to realize the girl's exceeding fairness.
"How pretty she is," she thought apprehensively, "and how startling her likeness to her dead sister! Good Heavens! what if Lance should see the resemblance as plainly as I do, and fall in love with her for Lily's sake."
The thought which now presented itself for the first time was startling in its probability. She began to think that it was time for Ada to be going back to school. It was dangerous to keep that fair flower-face in Lancelot Darling's vicinity.
"Ada," said she, abruptly, "how old are you?"
"Sixteen," answered the girl sleepily, without lifting her drooping, golden-brown lashes.
"Almost old enough to come out in society," said the lady. "You will have to hurry and finish your education—you mean to graduate, of course. When are you going back to school?"
"I do not expect to go back at all," was the startling reply.
"Not go back," said Mrs. Vance, affecting extreme astonishment.
"Papa is so lonely now that Lily is gone," said Ada, choking back a sob, "that I have not the heart to leave him. I will stay with him and comfort him."
"But, my dear—you so young, so unformed in your manners—surely you will not sacrifice yourself thus! Let me advise you to go back to college another year at least," urged Mrs. Vance.
A little annoyed at her persistence, Ada sat up and looked across at her.
"Mrs. Vance," said she, coldly, "do you happen to know that if I took your advice and returned to my boarding-school this house could no longer be a home for you?"
"Why not?" asked the lady, a little fluttered.
"Do you not see?" said Ada, pointedly. "You are not related to papa at all. You are a young and handsome woman. If you and he were living here alone together, with no one but the servants, people would couple your names unpleasantly. So you comprehend that it is better for me to stay and play propriety."
"Ada, I do not believe you care whether I have a shelter over my head or not," said the widow, stung into anger by the pointed speech of the girl.
"I should be sorry to see any one houseless," answered Ada, calmly; "but to own the truth, Mrs. Vance, I must say that I am sorry that the same roof has to shelter us both. I do not like you, and I am honest enough to tell you so!"
"Because I am poor and you are rich," said Mrs. Vance, affecting to weep.
"It is not that," said the young girl. "It is not that you are no relation to papa, except by marriage, and that you forced yourself here and claimed a support when you might have earned one for yourself, as many another widow has done. No, it is not for these things, Mrs. Vance, for I might still like you in spite of them, though I might pity your lack of true independence. But I dislike you because I believe you are a false, deceitful, unprincipled woman, scheming for some secret end of your own."
"What have I ever done to you, Ada, that you should denounce me thus?" sobbed the widow.
"Nothing—you would not dare to, for my papa would turn you out of the house if you did," replied the girl, spiritedly. "But do you think, Mrs. Vance, I cannot see your present drift? Do you think I do not see how shamelessly you are courting Lance Darling, and trying to win him from poor Lily who has been dead these four months scarcely?"
"Perhaps you want him for yourself," Mrs. Vance was beginning to say sarcastically, when they were interrupted by a slight rap on the door.
"Enter," called out Ada.
It was a servant with a message for the widow.
"There's an old woman out in the hall, Mrs. Vance, who says she has brought the samples of lace you desired."
Ada, who was watching her curiously, wondered why the angry woman grew so ghastly white under her rouge at the reception of so commonplace a visitor.
"Say that I am coming," said the widow to the domestic.
In a moment she arose with a muttered apology and followed him into the hall. Old Haidee stood there patiently waiting with her basket of laces on her arm.
"Bring the laces up to my apartment," said the lady, with as indifferent an air as she could assume.
When they were once safe within the locked room, Mrs. Vance turned furiously on the old lace-vender.
"Did I not tell you not to come here again?" she said. "I have nothing else to give you."
"Oh, Mrs. Vance, don't say that," whined the old crone, piteously; "I did not mean to come back, I did not indeed, but I am so poor and the gold you gave me is all gone."
"Liar! there was enough to last you a year," said Mrs. Vance, angrily.
"Oh, no, ma'am—not with my old man down with the rheumatism, and all my starving children around me. The money all went for medicine, food and clothes. It melted away like the new-fallen snow," whined Haidee. "So I said to myself, I will go back, I will tell the kind lady how poor I am and she will give me more money."
"I told you I had no more to give," almost shrieked Mrs. Vance in her desperation. "The money I gave you was presented to me by Mr. Lawrence, and he expected it would last me a long while. I am a poor woman, living here on the rich man's bounty, and I have nothing more for you—absolutely nothing!"
"Oh! but the pretty lady is mistaken," said Haidee, doggedly. "She has money, or if not she has jewels."
"Would you rob me of my few jewels, you base old wretch?"
"Necessity knows no law," retorted the old creature, grinning hideously. "I must have help for my sick husband and starving children. If you will not help me I must go to Mr. Lawrence or to Mr. Darling."
These sly words had their intended effect of frightening Mrs. Vance into compliance.
She went to her jewel box and began hurriedly to toss over its glittering contents.
"Here," she said, turning round with a handsome brooch in her hand, "will this satisfy your cupidity?"
But old Haidee's eyes roved greedily over the sparkling gems in the casket. She shook her head.
"I could not sell it for a quarter of its value," said she. "It would not relieve my necessities. Add some other trifle to it, lady—that bracelet for instance."
The bracelet was a very handsome one in the form of a serpent with glistening emerald eyes. With a groan Mrs. Vance put it into the greedy, working fingers.
"You will strip me of every valuable I possess," she said,"and then when I have nothing else to give you will betray me to my enemies, for the sake of gaining a reward from them."
"Lady, you do me cruel injustice," was the hypocrite's meek reply. "I will never betray you while you so generously divide your all with me."
"But if you keep coming with such demands as this I shall soon have nothing to divide with you," said Mrs. Vance.
"Aye, but the rich man will soon supply you with more gold," said the harpy, cunningly, as she turned to take leave.
"It will be a good while before I get any more money from Mr. Lawrence, so you need not be in a hurry to return for it," said the widow, letting her unwelcome visitor out of the door, and shaking her fist after her departing form.
As soon as her heavy footsteps ceased lumbering on the stairs, she hurriedly changed her house-dress for a walking costume of plain material and simple make. She then put on a small, black hat, tied over her face a thick, dark veil, and descended the steps, letting herself quietly out at the front door.
Once in the street, she paused and glanced hurriedly up and down. No one was in sight but the crooked form of the old lace-vender going slowly along a few blocks ahead of her.
Mrs. Vance set out to follow the old woman, walking briskly a few squares until she came within half a block of her. She then slackened her pace and went on more slowly, keeping herself invisible, but never losing sight of her prey.
"I will track the beast to its lair," she said to herself, "and then we will have our reckoning out."
Mrs. Vance hurried on at a steady pace, keeping her enemy fairly in sight, but aiming to keep too far in the background to be recognized herself. She had a long walk ahead of her, but she did not mind it, for her excitement was so great that she was insensible to bodily fatigue. She was filled with a raging anger against Ada Lawrence, whose pure, true instincts had so clearly fathomed her meanness and littleness of spirit. Added to this was her hatred of old Haidee Leveret, mixed with an abject fear of the old woman's power against her in the possession of her guilty secret. As she turned corner after corner, and traversed street after street, her mind was busy revolving vague schemes by which to rid herself of the greedy and dangerous old creature who began to hang upon her shoulders heavily as a veritable Sinbad.
At length she began to see that she was coming out upon the outskirts of the city. Old Haidee, a little ahead of her, kept on at a swinging pace, hastening her footsteps as she found herself nearing home. Mrs. Vance kept on steadily too, feeling determined to find out the old woman's home if she had any.
At last they reached the gloomy old stone house, with its high, forbidding stone wall. Even Mrs. Vance, courageous as she felt herself to be, was conscious of a pang resembling fear as she contemplated the place. But when Haidee was entering the gate she felt a firm touch on her shoulder, and turned to meet the smiling gaze of the beautiful widow.
"You see I have overtaken you," was her smooth salutation.
"You have followed me!" exclaimed Haidee, with a savage scowl of rage and surprise commingled.
"Yes," said Mrs. Vance coolly.
"Woman, woman! are you not afraid?" cried the old witch, pulling her visitor in and letting the heavy gate fall shut between them and the outer world. "Have you no dread of my vengeance? Remember, a word from me can consign you at any moment to the prison cell. Yet you dare to incur my wrath!"
"I did not follow you to provoke you to anger," said Mrs. Vance, deprecatingly. "Two motives prompted me to discover your residence. First, I desired to see your sick husband and starving children in the hope that I might do something to benefit them. And secondly, if you intend to make periodical calls on me for hush-money it is better that I should come here and bring it than for you to call on me. Your frequent visits on the slight pretext of your laces will not continue to deceive anyone, and may draw down suspicion upon me. Already Miss Lawrence suspects me of something. She has plainly told me so. So I repeat what I have already said—that it is much safer for me to come here than for you to go there."
"Come in, then, do," said Haidee, with a grim politeness that showed she was not much imposed on by the lady's profuse explanations. "Come in, and I will introduce you to my family. If you are really anxious to benefit us you shall have the opportunity."
She walked on down the grass-grown patch as she spoke and knocked at the house door. There was the sound of a key grating in the lock; then the door swung open and disclosed old Peter Leveret standing on the threshold.
Mrs. Vance, who kept close behind Haidee, started back with a cry of fear as his huge, misshapen body and bristling red hair met her gaze.
"That is my old man," said the lace vender, coolly. "I see you do not like his looks. Well, he is not handsome, certainly; but he is very useful inotherways."
Her malicious emphasis on the last words sent a shudder of fear through the veins of the visitor, but she did not betray her alarm. She followed the couple quietly into their rude and poorly furnished sitting-room and sat down in the chair old Haidee placed for her. Old Peter retired from their company at an almost imperceptible sign from his wife, and left the two together.
"Well, you have seen my husband," said the hostess, coolly. "You perceive he is a very miserable object—one calculated to strike fear into the heart of a fine lady with such delicate nerves as your own. My children, I am sorry to say, are not at home to-day. They would have remained if they had anticipated the honor of your visit; but they are all out begging, as I have been."
Old Haidee had thrown off the tone of whining meekness which she often adopted with Mrs. Vance and showed herself now cool, impudent and crafty. Mrs. Vance noted this change with alarm. She began to think she had perhaps erred in risking her head inthe lion's den. She now said in a tone of meekness calculated to allay the spirit of defiance she had raised in the old witch:
"One word, Haidee, as I think you told me your name was—does that old man, your husband, share the secret you hold against me?"
"I told you once," was the answer, "that the secret belongs to me alone."
"Yes, but as a man and his wife are one," said Mrs. Vance, cajolingly, "perhaps you would not count him as anyone but yourself—but you see it would make much difference to me. So I ask you again, does he know that secret?"
"And I decline to answer that question," answered the old witch craftily.
Truth to tell, old Peter was not aware of the secret which his wife assumed to hold against Mrs. Vance, for Haidee, in her miserly avarice, had wished to share its golden fruits alone; but the cunning old creature saw in the anxiety of the lady a menace of danger to herself, and thought it as well to encourage Mrs. Vance's doubts in that direction.
"I decline to answer that question," she repeated, with a fearful scowl.
"I may as well go then," said the visitor, rising. She was too much frightened at the loneliness of the house and the murderous looks of its inhabitants to remain longer. "But, Haidee, I wish you to understand plainly that you are not to enter the house of Mr. Lawrence again. If you must have more hush-money from me, you can send me a line through the post-office, and I will come here myself and bring you what I can raise. Will you promise to do this?"
"I will promise to do as you say if you will keep your word," was the sullen answer, "but if you fail to come with the money within twenty-four hours after I write you, rest assured I shall come after it at the grand house."
"I will not fail you," was the firm answer, "and now unfasten the door and let me go."
"How do you know that I will let you go?" asked Haidee, tauntingly. "This is a fine old house in which to hold you prisoner—it has old stone dungeons, iron-barred windows."
Mrs. Vance shuddered, but she answered in as fearless a tone as possible:
"You have no interest in making a prisoner of me, for in that case you would get no profit out of your secret. You will not kill the goose that lays the golden eggs."
"No, no," chuckled Haidee, "but perhaps you are laying some plan against me—you wish to have me arrested."
"It is not likely. My safety depends on yours—no, no, you need fear nothing from me. Come, come, it grows late. I am very thirsty. Give me a drink of water and let me go."
The water was procured, and the visitor drank and departed.
She walked hastily over the lonely road, passed the scattered houses, and then hailing an empty hack that was passing, entered it and was driven rapidly homeward, her thoughts, if possible,being more gloomy than before, for now the dread of old Peter Leveret was added to her fears of his wife.
She had started out to follow old Haidee with black murder in her heart. She had not believed in the story of the sick husband and children, but had expected to find the old crone alone.
Heaven knows what would have happened if she had; but instead she found the strong, hideous old man, whose leering looks had struck terror to her heart, and she now believed that he also was cognizant of the fatal secret which was fraught with such danger to her.
Her thoughts and feelings were anything but enviable ones as she walked up the steps of the brown-stone palace she called her home.
As she passed through the hall she saw the drawing-room door ajar, and heard voices. She tip-toed to the door and peeped cautiously in.
Lancelot Darling was there, his handsome head bowed over the couch where Ada half reclined, listening to a poem which Lancelot was reading aloud. They looked cozy, comfortable, and supremely contented to the jealous eyes that glared steadily upon them.
She made no sign, however, but went on to her room, with a tempest in her heart which, however, did not prevent her from subsequently descending to the drawing-room, where she set herself to work by every beguiling art of which she was mistress, to wile away the unconscious young man from the side of the beautiful Ada.
Haidee Leveret had scarcely returned from locking the door after her despairing visitor when she was confronted by her husband.
Old Peter's eyes snapped viciously, his hideous old face was flushed crimson, and his shock of bristly red hair stood erect with indignation.
"Now, then, madam," said he, with a snort of rage, "I have caught you at your sly tricks, have I?"
"What is the matter with you, old man?" inquired his spouse, affecting serene unconsciousness.
"Oh, you may well ask!" snapped her liege lord. "You haven't been and gone and discovered a mine of wealth and worked it yourself in secret, denying your poor honest old husband a share in the profits—oh, no, you have not!"
"Shut up your nonsense," said Haidee, witheringly.
"You haven't got a secret against a great lady," pursued old Peter, disregarding her adjuration. "A great lady who follows you home to lavish gold upon you, and who wants to know if poor old Peter shares the secret with you, that she may bestow some of her wealth upon him. You have not got your pockets full of gold at this moment—oh, no, no, no!"
"You have been eavesdropping, you devil," cried his wife in a rage.
"Well, what if I have?" snapped he. "When a woman has secrets from her husband—a kind, faithful old man like you have got, Haidee—it is his right to find out all he can by hook or by crook. I have a mind to search your pockets this minute, and see what hoards of wealth you have hidden there now."
"Have done with your foolishness, old man," said Haidee, with an uneasy consciousness of the costly golden brooch and bracelet, lyingperduin her pocket that minute.
"Will you turn your pocket inside out then, and let me see if it is empty?" asked her husband threateningly.
"No, I won't," was the sullen response.
Inflamed with rage and cupidity the old man advanced fiercely upon her, intending to carry out his threat.
But the virago was ready for him. As he was about to pinion her arms down to prevent her resistance, she suddenly thrust her hands into his hair, and clutched its bushy red masses tightly in her long and claw-like fingers.
This done, with a quick and dexterous movement she flourished her arms and brought her husband down groveling on his knees before her.
"So you will pick my pocket, will you, you old villain!" she cried triumphantly.
But she cried victory a moment too soon. As she spoke the words old Peter made a furious lunge forward with his immense head and succeeded in throwing her backward upon the floor, where she lay kicking furiously and waving her hands, in which were tangled great bunches of fiery hair.
The old man immediately followed up his signal success by planting his knees on her chest, and rifling her pocket of its costly contents, while the vanquished wife sent forth wailing cries of rage and grief at the spoliation of her property.
"Oh! yes," cried the old man, holding aloft these spoils of war with one hand, while he vigorously pummelled his wife with the other. "Oh! yes, you have already stripped the woman of her money, and have now commenced on her jewels! Where have you hidden the pile of money? Tell me this minute, before I kill you!"
Receiving no answer but a loud curse he began to rain blows thick and fast on the head and shoulders of his powerless victim, and there is no telling how this conjugal war might have ended had not a loud and continued knocking on the door startled the furious belligerents.
"Get up," shrieked the vanquished, rejoicing at this diversion in her favor. "Get up and open the door! Someone has been knocking these ten minutes past."
Old Peter obeyed this mandate reluctantly, shambling off and carefully pocketing the jewels as he went, while Haidee rose and straightened her disordered dress, and picked up her cap, which had been torn off in the furiousmelee.
"Now, then," said Doctor Pratt, entering, attended by Harold Colville, "what is the matter here? I never heard such a furious racket in my life! Have you two been fighting?"
"Only having a friendly knock-about by way of exercise, sir,"answered old Peter, with a hideous grin at his conquered opponent, who had received a black eye and a swollen face for her portion of the friendly contest, while he himself had not escaped scatheless, as he bore several bloody scratches on his face, and sundry bites on his large red hands that testified to the efficacy of her teeth and finger nails.
"What was the cause of your quarrel?" inquired Mr. Colville, curiously.
"It was of no moment," answered Haidee, with a warning glance at her old man; but Peter's fighting blood was up and he did not heed her caution. He proceeded to explain by way of revenge on his angry spouse.
"It was all along of a fine lady, doctor, that Haidee is holding a secret against, and getting lots of money from on account of it, which she refuses to share, either the money or the secret, with her poor old husband."
"Who is the lady, and what secret have you got against her?" inquired Doctor Pratt, looking sternly at her.
"It is no concern of yours, doctor," was the sullen reply.
"Her name was Mrs. Vance," said Peter, taking a malicious joy in circumventing old Haidee.
"Good Heavens," said Doctor Pratt, remembering how incautiously he had talked to Colville about the widow in Haidee's presence. "Why, you she-devil, is it possible you have been trading upon the suspicions you heard me breathe about the woman?"
The old witch would not answer, but Peter, taking on himself the role of spokesman, replied for her:
"I can't tell you where she got suspicions or her information, sir, but she has certainly made a good bit by her knowledge, for she has gathered in all the lady's money, and now begins to strip her of her jewels. Fine ladies don't part with things like these until all their money has gone the same gait," said he, holding up the brooch and the jeweled serpent whose emerald eyes glared like living ones.
"It's a lie—I've only had money of her once," said old Haidee fiercely. "She is a poor woman, and has nothing to pay with."
"How did you gain your information, Peter, if, as you say, your wife would not share her secret with you?" inquired Doctor Pratt, trembling with rage against Haidee.
"The lady followed her home to-day to make arrangements for coming here the next time to pay another installment of hush-money. Haidee had been going there on some pretext of peddling lace, I think, but the lady was afraid to have her come to her house again, and promised to meet her here."
"My God!" said the physician, growing white with fear and rage. "Mrs. Vance here—in this house only to-day. Haidee, you shall repent this!"
"I have not betrayed any of your secrets, doctor—I was only making a little money for myself, and no harm done," said the old witch, beginning to grow apologetic.
"No matter, you must never go there again, nor suffer her tocome here. If you do I swear I will murder you! Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir," was the sulky answer.
"And you promise to do as I bid you?"
"I promise."
"Very well, then. See that you keep your word. And you, Peter, let me know if she dares to disobey my injunction. And let the matter rest also yourself. If either of you approach Mrs. Vance again, I swear you shall pay a heavy penalty for your temerity!"
"Your prisoner, Haidee—is she safe?" inquired Harold Colville, growing impatient of the delay.
"She is, sir," was the answer.
"The key then—we wish to visit her," said Colville; whereupon he and Doctor Pratt both arose and made their way to Lily's room.