one day be discovered to criminate and bring their guilt home to them. It became, therefore, vital to their safety that the papers should not fall into other hands, and for the purpose of searching for them and obtaining possession of them, Pelham had disguised himself as Richard Manx, and had taken an attic in No. 118 Great Porter Square, from which room he could gain easy access to the house in which the murder had been committed. The circumstantial evidence of guilt was complete, but direct evidence, in his father's own writing, now lay in Frederick Holdfast's hands. What remained to be done was to bring the murderer to the bar of justice. Not a moment was to be lost. It was now late in the night, and Pelham was doubtless upstairs, busily engaged in his last search. Frederick placed the papers carefully in his breast pocket. His honour was established, his name was returned to him, he was absolved from his oath. He could resume his position in the world, and could offer to the woman he loved an honourable position in society. It was she who had led him to this discovery; had it not been for her courage, the wretches would have escaped, and his father's murder remained unavenged. "I myself," said Frederick, "will deliver the murderer into the hands of justice. Tonight he shall sleep in a felon's cell." He had no fear. Single-handed he would arrest Pelham; it was but man to man, and he was armed, and his cause was just. He listened for a moment. It was a wild night, and the rain was pouring down heavily. The detective and his assistants were in the Square, waiting upon his summons. Nothing but the plashing of the rain was to be heard; no other sound fell upon his ears from within or without. The murderer was working warily in the room above; he himself would be as wary. Cunning for cunning, silence for silence, a life for a life. "You murderous villain!" murmured Frederick. "Were it not that I dare not stain my soul with a crime, you should not live another hour!" In his stocking-feet he crept from the kitchen, and stepped noiselessly up-stairs. In his hushed movements was typified the retribution which waits upon the man who sheds the blood of a human being. As he ascended the stairs which led to the first floor he was made aware, by the sound of a man moving softly in the room in which his father had been murdered, that Pelham was at work. In a few moments Frederick Holdfast was at the door, listening. Before he turned the handle, he looked through the key-hole to mark the exact spot upon which Pelham stood, so that he might seize him the instant he entered the room. To his surprise he saw two persons in the room--Pelham bending over the floor boards he had torn up, and the form of a man lying on the bed. He could not see the face of the recumbent man; the face of Pelham was clearly visible.