It was the twenty-fourth of December and Mr. Lawrence sat alone in his elegant office at the bank, musing sadly before the glowing fire in the grate.

The banker looked worn and sad, and now and then a heavy sigh parted his well-cut lips, and a dimness crept over his fine blue eyes.

He was thinking of his beautiful elder daughter whose tragic death had well-nigh broken his fatherly heart.

He brushed his handkerchief across his eyes and sighed heavily.

There was a knock at the door and a clerk entered with Mr. Shelton's card.

"Ah!" said Mr. Lawrence. "Show the gentleman in, Mr. Styles."

Mr. Shelton entered with suppressed excitement beaming from every feature. His greeting ceremonies were brief and hurried.

"Mr. Lawrence," he said directly, "I have a carriage in waiting outside. Will you do me the honor to ride several miles with me this morning?"

"You have made some important discovery?" exclaimed Mr. Lawrence, rising excitedly.

"Yes," answered the detective, "but I cannot explain until we are on our way. We have not a minute to spare!"

They hurried out and took their places in the carriage.

"Driver, you have your directions," said the detective to the man on the box. "Do not forget. Drive fast and overtake the other carriage if possible—if not, try and get within sight of it at least."

"Is there another carriage?" inquired the banker, bewildered.

"Yes," said Mr. Shelton. "I have sent a carriage ahead of us containing four policemen, and they are secretly following another carriage. The first carriage contains Doctor Pratt, Harold Colville, and a priest. They are on the way to the place where the body of your daughter is concealed, and we are on our way to secure and arrest them."

"You are perfectly certain, I hope," said Mr. Lawrence, trembling with excitement.

"Yes, success is assured," said Mr. Shelton, with a ring of triumph in his clear tone.

"Thank God!" exclaimed the banker fervently. "At last my poor Lily's desecrated corpse may rest in a fitting sanctuary."

He leaned over and wrung the detective's hand gratefully.

"God bless you, my friend, for the patience and perseverance that have brought this result at last," he said.

The detective was deeply moved by the emotion of the elder man.

"Mr. Lawrence," said he, bending forward and speaking in low, impressive tones, "prepare yourself for a wonderful revelation! Are you strong enough to bear tidings of great joy?"

"What do you mean, Mr. Shelton?" inquired the banker with a start. "Alas! what joyful tidings can come to me, broken-hearted as I am at the loss of my daughter?"

The detective leaned forward and laid his hand on the banker's arm.

"Mr. Lawrence," he said, in a voice that vibrated with feeling, "it is not the corpse of your daughter that I am about to restore to the desecrated vault, but the living, beautiful Lily that will be given back to your heart and your home!"

Mr. Lawrence fell back against the cushion of the carriage like one stricken with death, so great was the shock of the detective's revelation. Mr. Shelton took a small flask from his pocket, and forced some wine between his white and gasping lips.

"I feared these joyful tidings would unnerve you," said he, gently. "Calm yourself, my dear sir. Your daughter, whom you have mourned as dead, yet lives. It was her own living self that you saw in your hall that night, not her spirit!"

"Oh! God be thanked! Lily lives!" repeated the banker in a low voice of ecstasy.

Shelton put his head out of the carriage window a moment.

"We have caught up with the officers' hack," said he. "Now we are all right. Driver, just keep on at your present pace. We do not need to go faster."

"Every moment seems an hour," exclaimed the banker, in a fever of anxiety and impatience. "Oh, to think that my darling lives! And yet, oh, God! what would be her feelings on learning that her betrothed will wed another to-night!"

"Do not distress yourself about that marriage, Mr. Lawrence," answered the detective. "I assure you it shall never be consummated."

"Ah! you think she will generously yield him to Lily when she finds that she is still living?" said the banker; "but you do not know Mrs. Vance. Nothing would induce her to release her victim from the toils she has wound about him."

"Perhaps I know more of Mrs. Vance than you suppose," said Mr. Shelton. "For instance, Mr. Lawrence, you believe that your daughter committed suicide—do you not?"

"It was the jury's verdict," said the banker.

"Mr. Lawrence, your daughter was as happy and as much in love with life as you believed her to be. She never attempted to commit suicide," said the detective, firmly.

"She did not? Then who—what—?" began the banker, in a maze of bewilderment.

"The dagger that pierced her innocent breast was driven home by the murderous hand of Mrs. Vance!" was the reply.

Fear, horror and amazement were blended on the pale, excited features of the listener. His gray head fell back against the cushions of the carriage, and he struggled helplessly for speech in which to express his feelings. Mr. Shelton again had recourse to his convenient flask of wine.

"I fear I am exciting you too much with my astonishing revelations," said the detective, kindly. "I do not wonder at your emotion, for my own agitation at learning these facts was great. How much more poignant must your feelings be than mine were, under the circumstances that affect you so closely."

"The viper! The serpent that stung the hand that warmed and fed her!" exclaimed the banker, bitterly.

"You may well say so," said Mr. Shelton. "She has indeed proved herself a monster of ingratitude! But to-day she will find herself foiled and ruined. She has but a few hours remaining to her now of her fancied security and happiness."

"God be thanked!" said the banker; "and, oh! Mr. Shelton, are we almost there? The time seems so long. Forgive a father's impatience, but you cannot imagine what suspense I suffer, what longings overwhelm me at the thought that I shall soon clasp my darling Lily to my heart again!"

"We shall soon be there now. Patience, my friend," said the detective. "Believe me, I sympathize in your impatience to behold your daughter again."

"You are a noble fellow, Mr. Shelton," said the banker. "You will not find me ungrateful."

The carriage slackened its pace, and Mr. Shelton put his head out of the window.

"We are there," he exclaimed in a voice that trembled with excitement and triumph, while his manly, handsome features beamed with joy.

The carriage stopped and Mr. Shelton descended, followed by the banker, who trembled so that he could scarcely stand upon the ground.

The four officers had already descended from their vehicle and stood respectfully awaiting Mr. Shelton's approach. The empty carriage of Pratt and Colville stood in waiting before the door.

At a word from Mr. Shelton they all ascended the steps, and the detective rang a furious peal upon the bell.

The summons was unanswered. Mr. Shelton rang again and again with a like result.

"What will you do now?" asked Mr. Lawrence, in a perfect fever of dread and impatience.

"Burst in the door!" said the detective, in a ringing voice.

At the word the four officers fell to furiously with their clubs upon the door. A few moments of their impetuous battering sufficed to burst it in, and they all bounded tumultuously into the hall.

A neat-looking maid-servant stood at the bottom of the stairway, looking frightened and indignant. It was none other than Mary Brown.

"Woman," said Mr. Shelton, imperiously, "lead the way to Miss Lawrence's room immediately!"

"It's against orders, sir," said Mary, sullenly.

"No matter, do as I bid you!" thundered the impatient detective.

"Miss Lawrence has company, sir, and the orders are not to admit any one."

"Push her aside, men; we will hunt for Miss Lawrence ourselves," said the detective sternly.

Strong hands forced Mary aside from her position on the stairway. Several domestics, attracted by the noise, had hastened up from the regions of the basement and stood staring stupidly, but did not offer any resistance to the officers' power. The men began to mount the stairs rapidly, and Mary Brown rushed frantically after them.

"Oh! for the Lord's sake, gentlemen," she panted, "don't burst in the doors up-stairs, and let the poor crazy people out upon us. They will murder us all."

"Will you do as we told you, then?" asked the detective, sharply.

"Oh! yes, yes," whimpered Mary, running along in front of them. "This way, gentlemen."

She stopped, at length, and indicated the door. It was locked, but the officers' clubs demolished it directly, and not a moment too soon were they for what was progressing within that room.

The villanous priest who was desecrating his holy office by this sacrilege, stood in the center of the floor with his prayer-book open at the marriage service, from which he was slowly reading. Colville stood in front of him, and the united efforts of the worthy doctors, Pratt and Heath, were employed in holding up the form of Lily Lawrence beside him.

With a scream of horror Mr. Lawrence rushed forward, and snatching his daughter from their villanous hold, he folded her tightly to his heart. She looked up an instant with a wild and piercing shriek, and seeing the beloved face of her father, dropped unconscious in his loving arms.