The Bride of the Tomb, and Queenie's Terrible Secret. Alex. McVeigh Miller

are very poor, I suppose," said Lily, letting her eyes rove over the poorly furnished bedroom.

      "Miserably poor, honey," said old Haidee, while an avaricious light gleamed in her small black eyes.

      "Is this place in New York?" asked the patient.

      "Thereabouts," answered old Haidee.

      "Would you like to earn some money—heaps of shining gold?" asked the girl, timidly.

      The old woman's beady eyes sparkled. "Aye, that I would," said she.

      "If you will carry a little note to my father for me, I'll give you plenty of money," said Lily, tremblingly.

      "Where is your money?" asked Haidee, cautiously.

      "I have no money with me," said Lily, "but my father will give you some when you take him this note."

      "The pay must be in advance," said Haidee, provokingly, "I can't trust your promise."

      Lily looked about her despairingly. There was nothing valuable about her except a diamond ring on her finger. Her eyes fell upon that.

      "I will give you my diamond ring if you will carry the note to my father."

      "Aye, aye, but your captors would miss it from your finger," said Haidee, watching the sparkling jewel with greedy eyes. "They would suspect you had bribed me, and they would kill old Haidee."

      "That is true," murmured the patient, sadly. She lay a little while lost in thought, then her face grew bright.

      "I will tell you what I will do," said she. "See, there are five diamonds in my ring. Each one is worth a hundred dollars. I will loosen one of the stones and give it to you if you will help me to escape from here. They will not miss one single stone from the ring, or if they do they will think it had become loosened from the setting and lost. Come, what do you say?"

      "It is a risky undertaking, and the reward is small," muttered the old creature.

      "My father shall give much more if you help me. Haidee, will you do it?" asked Lily, imploringly.

      "Yes, I will," said the old woman, greedily.

      "Now?" asked Lily.

      "Yes, now, before the doctor or Mr. Colville comes back. My old man can take care of you until I return."

      Lily shuddered at the mention of the old man, but hastily begged for writing materials.

      There were none to be had except the stub of an old pencil and some light brown wrapping-paper. The old crone brought her these with a muttered apology for her poverty, and sitting up in bed, Lily wrote a few feeble, incoherent lines to her father.

      "Dear papa," she wrote, "I am not dead, though you put me in a coffin and locked me in the vault with all the dead and gone Lawrences. I was stolen from the vault, and a doctor brought me to life again. I am kept a prisoner here by Harold Colville, who swears he will not release me until I marry him. I have hired the old woman who takes care of me to take you this letter. You must give her money, papa dear, for her kindness. She will conduct you here where I am. Oh! hasten, papa, and release me from this horrible prison.

"Your loving daughter,"Lily."

      Taking the old woman's knitting needle she carefully pryed out one of the diamonds from her ring, and putting it with the note into Haidee's hand bade her hasten.

      "It is a long way from here. It will take me several hours to go," was the answer.

      "I shall count the minutes till you return," said Lily. "God bless you, Haidee, for your goodness to me at this trying time."

      The old woman chuckled as she went out, and locked the door after her. At the foot of the stairs she paused and carefully reread the superscription of the letter.

      "Number 1800 Fifth avenue," said she, gloatingly. "Ah! the outside of this letter is all I want to see."

      She hobbled into her room, set her old man on guard to watch her prisoner, and blithely wended her way cityward.

      CHAPTER VI

      "Mrs. Vance, there is an old woman down-stairs says she has brought the laces you wished to see," said a trim little serving maid at Mrs. Vance's door.

      Mrs. Vance looked up impatiently from her book.

      "I have not ordered any laces at all," said the lady, sharply. "Send the lying old creature away, Agnes."

      The trim maid hesitated.

      "You ought to look at them, Mrs. Vance," said she, timidly; "such lovely laces I never saw. They are as delicate as sea-foam and very cheap. I expect they are smuggled goods."

      "Well, well, let her come up then, but I do not need any of her wares."

      Agnes went away and presently reappeared a moment at the door, and ushered in old Haidee with a basket on her arm. The maid then left them together.

      "Now, then," said the lady, sharply, "what did you mean by saying I had ordered your laces?"

      "Oh! pretty lady, forgive an old woman's lie to the maids for the sake of getting in. I have bargains, lady—lovely laces smuggled through the Custom House without any duty—I can sell them to you much cheaper than the merchants can afford to do."

      "Let me see them, then," said the lady, with apparent indifference.

      Old Haidee unpacked her wares and exhibited a small but fine assortment of real laces. Her prices were extremely low, and Mrs. Vance, though she pretended indifference, was charmed with their elegance, and the small sum asked by the vender. After a good deal of haggling she selected several yards, and paid for them in gold pieces taken from a silken netted purse through whose interstices gleamed many more pieces of the same kind. Old Haidee's eyes gleamed greedily at the sight.

      "Gold-gold!" she muttered, working her claw-like fingers. "Give me the purse, pretty lady."

      Mrs. Vance withdrew a step in amazement.

      "Old woman, you are crazy. Go, leave the room this very instant!"

      "Give me the gold," still pleaded the miserly old hag.

      "I will have you turned out of the house this minute, miserable old beggar!" cried Mrs. Vance, moving toward the bell.

      "Stop one moment, lady, I have something to say to you—a secret to tell you. You would not have me tell it before the servants, would you?" said the old woman, in such a meaning tone that Mrs. Vance actually hesitated, with her hand on the bell-rope.

      "Say on," said she, haughtily, and thinking to herself that the old lace-vender was insane.

      "Bend closer, lady, the walls have ears sometimes. This is a terrible secret," said Haidee, with a solemn air.

      Mrs. Vance moved a step nearer, impressed in spite of herself by the eerie, witch-like gestures and sepulchral air of the speaker.

      "Lady, a few nights ago a fair young girl was murdered within these stately walls. Ah! you tremble; she trembled too when the jealous woman stole into her room, turned the key in the lock, and struck her down as she stood looking at her sweet reflection in her bridal dress—yes, struck her down with a brutal dagger-thrust in her heart. The wicked murderess stooped to see if her guilty work was done, then escaped down the ladder of vines that climbed up to the window. The jury said that the poor girl committed suicide; but we know better—do we not, beautiful lady?"

      "You are a fiend," cried Mrs. Vance, from the chair where she had sunk down, still clutching the heavy purse of gold coins in her cold hand. "You lie! no one murdered her—she died by her own hand."

      "Lady, I shall not tell my secret to any one but you," said Haidee, with a low and fiend-like laugh. "Now, will you give me the gold?"

      "Never! You have come here to blackmail me! you wish to frighten me by trumped up suspicion; I will not buy your silence!" cried Mrs. Vance, passionately.

      "Very well, lady, I will go to Mr. Lawrence, I will go to Mr. Darling, I will tell them what I have told you," said the lace-vender, rising to leave.

      "Stay—who knows this lying tale besides yourself?"

      "No