That night at about the hour of twelve, the dark figure of a man crossed the garden in the rear of Frank Sydney's house, and approached the iron door of the wine-vault wherein Nero, the African, was imprisoned. By the aid of skeleton keys he unlocked the door, and bade the prisoner come forth. The negro obeyed, surprised and delighted at his unexpected deliverance. 'To whom am I indebted for this friendly act?' he asked. 'I have no time to answer questions,' replied the Dead Man, for it was he. 'Hasten to your mistress at No.--Reade street, and remember your motto as well as mine must be--'Vengeance on Sydney!'' 'Yes--vengeance on Sydney,' muttered the black, from between his clenched teeth, as he hurried away in the direction of Reade street. 'He will be another agent to assist me in torturing my enemy,' said the Dead Man to himself, as he bent his rapid footsteps towards the Dark Vaults. Nero soon reached the residence of Mrs. Belmont, in Reade street. He was admitted into the house by Susan, who informed him that her mistress had not yet retired. The black quickly mounted the stairs, and entering the room, was about to rush forward and clasp the lady in his arms, when she checked him by a movement of disgust, desired him not to approach her, and pointing to a chair in a distant corner, coldly requested him to seat himself there. Why did that unprincipled and licentious woman thus repulse the former partner of her guilty joys--he who had so long been the recipient of her favors, and the object of her unhallowed love? Was it because he was emaciated, filthy and in rags, the results of his long imprisonment in a loathsome dungeon? No--that was not the reason of her repulsing him. Julia was a woman wildly capricious in her nature; she was a creature of sudden impulses--her most passionate love would often instantly change to bitterest hate. In this instance, her love for the African had entirely and forever ceased, and she now viewed him with contemptuous disgust, wondering that she could ever have had such a _penchant_ for him. ''Tis strange,' she thought, 'that I ever could descend to an intrigue with that vile negro. Heavens! I loathe the very sight of him!' Nero, on his part, was astounded at this unexpected reception; he had anticipated a night of voluptuous bliss with his former paramour, and he could not divine the cause of her sudden rejection of him. 'My dear Julia, why this coldness?--what have I done to offend you?' he demanded, after a short pause.