The inquest that was held over the dead bodies of Peter and Haidee Leveret developed no information that could lead to the conviction of their destroyer.

An expert examined the bodies and declared that the cause of their death was strychnine poison.

Large quantities of this baneful drug was found in the tea pot and in the partly emptied cups of the victims.

Mr. Shelton testified to the accidental finding of the bodies, and to his extinguishing the flames which had been lighted for their funeral pyre—also to the finding of the chained prisoner in the gloomy dungeon. His evidence threw no light on the subject.

Fanny Colville testified to the names and general bad character of the deceased, but knew nothing which was calculated to enlighten the jury as to the mystery of their death.

She had not seen Peter for two years. Haidee had been in the habit of bringing her some bread and water once a week, but had neglected to return the last time, and nine days had elapsed since Fanny had seen her, two of which days she was entirely without food.

She supposed that the old witch was putting into execution her often-reiterated threat of starving her to death.

This was all they learned of Fanny. She had given her evidence with many pauses and turns of faintness. At length she became so ill and exhausted that it seemed cruel to weaken her with farther questioning, and it was decided to defer it until she became stronger and better.

The jury, in accordance with the facts elicited, rendered a verdict that the pair had come to their death by strychnine poisoning at the hands of some person unknown.

Search was made for the hidden treasure the misers were supposed to have concealed about the house, but nothing of value was found, and the bodies of the iniquitous pair were committed to burial at the expense of the city. They had lived their evil life, and the world being rid of them was better off.

Mrs. Colville was removed to the home of Mrs. Mason, and the kind soul was shocked at the spectacle of human misery thus presented to her view.

She gave the poor creature a warm bath, clothed her skeleton limbs in soft and comfortable apparel, and shingled her long, inextricably tangled hair close to her head.

This done she proceeded to put her to bed and feed her with warm and nourishing food.

The poor, starved woman could scarcely realize her good fortune.

She lay looking about her at the pleasant little room with its neat carpet and curtains, its comfortable bed and cheery fire, and feared it was all a dream from which she would awaken to the horrors of her lonely, fireless dungeon.

But the gentle voice of her hostess soothed away her fears and lulled her into profound and restful sleep.

For several days the most of her time was spent in eating and sleeping.

The warm room and nourishing food seemed to induce slumber, and she began to improve very slowly, but still so perceptibly that when the detective came to see her after the lapse of a week he was delighted at the change.

"Mrs. Mason, you must be a capital nurse," said he, smiling. "Your patient looks very well, and begins to improve at a rate I hardly dared hope for; I should scarcely have known her."

"And, but for your timely help I should have been dead ere this," said the invalid, giving him a grateful look from her large, hollow, dark eyes. "I owe you my life. I do not know how to thank you."

"Do not try," answered the detective, feeling shy under the gratitude that was about to be showered upon him. "The revelation you made me when I found you fully repays the debt."

"Ah! that dear girl," sighed Fanny. "Have you learned anything further about her, Mr. Shelton?"

He shook his head sadly.

"I am sorry to say I have not. The wretches have eluded me in some way, and managed to remove her without my knowledge. But I do not despair of catching up with them yet, and restoring the unfortunate young creature to her friends."

"God grant you may," she murmured, fervently.

"There is one thing I wish to ask you," said he, suddenly. "When you were telling me your story that day in the dungeon, you made an assertion that threw a new light on the subject of Miss Lawrence's supposed death."

"Ah! what was that?" she inquired.

"You know, or, perhaps, you do not know," said he, "that the jury's verdict was suicide. Yet you made the assertion that she was murdered by a jealous woman."

"Miss Lawrence was my informant, sir," answered Mrs. Colville. "Perhaps she knew all the circumstances better than the jury."

"No doubt she did," he answered, smiling at her demure tone. "And the woman?"

"Was a beautiful widow who lives under the Lawrence roof, and is dependent on the banker for the very means of existence. I cannot recall her name, for I have a peculiar faculty for forgetting names, but perhaps you have heard it."

"I have," he answered, gravely. "And indeed it amazes me. It passes belief that she should have struck a blow so terrible at the heart of Mr. Lawrence, to whom she owes nothing but gratitude."

"She was maddened by jealousy, sir. She loved the young man whom Lily Lawrence was on the point of marrying. I heard this from the young girl's own lips. She told me she had long before suspected her love, and pitied her sincerely, without a thought of the cruel vengeance she was about to take."

"Cruel! It was fiendish," said Mr. Shelton.

"Yes, sir, it was fiendish. She crept into the room while Miss Lawrence was trying on her wedding-dress, caught up a dagger from the table, and exclaimed, as she plunged it into her victim's heart: 'Girl, you shall die because Lancelot Darling loves you!'"

"Horrible!" exclaimed the detective.

"Miss Lawrence became immediately unconscious," continued Mrs. Colville, "and does not know how the woman left the room after locking her door on the inside, but thinks it probable she slid down the long vine that runs up to her chamber window."

"It is very probable she did," said Mr. Shelton. "Heavens! what a tissue of crime and villany has been woven about the innocent life of that beautiful girl! But I will see her righted, I swear it by all that I hold most sacred. And then let Mrs. Vance and Pratt and Colville look to themselves. I hold the evidences of their crime in my hands now. They only bide my time to see the inside of a prison cell!"

Mrs. Mason, sitting with her knitting, had been an interested listener to the above conversation. The detective turned to her now, saying kindly:

"We have been discussing secrets very freely in your presence, my kind hostess, but I suppose you know how to keep silence regarding them."

"Wild horses should not drag a word from me, sir, without permission," replied she, earnestly.

"I fully believe it," answered Mr. Shelton. "Therefore I shall commission Mrs. Colville to take you fully into our confidence after I leave here. You will thereby hear a very romantic story regarding the young lady whom you so nobly befriended some time ago."

"Bless her sweet face! I never shall forget her," said Mrs. Mason, on whom indeed that little incident had made a deep and lasting impression.

"I hope you may yet have the pleasure of meeting her under more favorable auspices," said the detective, strong in the faith that he should yet rescue Lily from her cruel and unrelenting captors.

"Mr. Shelton," said the invalid, abruptly, "I have been thinking of sending for my poor old mother from the country. I must tell you that I ran away from home to marry that villain, Colville. I have never seen my poor old mother since, but I sent her my marriage certificate to keep for me, and to assure her that I was an honorable wife. I have never seen or heard from her since. I would like to see her very much."

"Well?" he said, as she paused, looking wistfully at him.

"Would you advise me to send for her?" asked Fanny.

Mr. Shelton took down a little mirror hanging over the small toilet table and held it before her face.

"Is it possible your mother would recognize you?" he inquired, gently.

Poor Fanny did not know how sadly she was changed before. She looked at herself and shuddered.

"Oh! no, sir!" said she, mournfully; "I was a black-eyed, rosy-cheeked young girl when I left home. I am a gray-headed skeleton now."

"Then take my advice and wait a little while. In the meantime, let Mrs. Mason feed you and nurse you until you get some flesh on your limbs, and some color in your ghostly face. Then as soon as you get strong enough to travel, I myself will take you home to your mother."

"Oh! thank you, thank you; that will be best," she murmured, gratefully.

"No thanks," he answered, and bidding them adieu, he went hurriedly away.