Frank returned at once to the city to carry forward sundry investigations in regard to his own and his sister's fortune. He had already ascertained that Mr. Tracy had secured a large sum of money, by making it over to his wife. If it could be proved that this had been done within six months of the failure, closely following the discovery of his fraud, the whole transaction would be illegal. Monson P. Tracy had been removed from his own house to the Penitentiary. But as his mind was entirely shattered, he did not feel the disgrace. He wondered indeed at the shabbiness of his room, supposing himself at a hotel, and used to complain to the wardens who frequently passed his cell that the waiters neglected their duty, that if they did not look out, he would move to better quarters and bid the public beware of them. Roswell's absence continued for a long time unexplained, but at last some notorious facts became public. In the midst of his researches at the bank, etc., Frank Edmond came across a check for twelve thousand five hundred dollars, on Monson P. Tracy, presented and receipted for by his son. The teller, and even the cashier, well remembered the circumstances connected with the check, it being for a considerable amount, and the young man excessively impatient at the necessary delay, in counting. This check being put into the hands of experts, the signature was pronounced a forgery, and a remarkably skilful one. Of the amount, twelve thousand five hundred dollars, seven thousand was the property of Frank and Helen. A search for the criminal was commenced at once. And a miniature of him found in his room was placed at the disposal of the chief of police, who caused it to be struck off and printed in all the secular papers, with his name and crime attached. As I shall have no occasion to refer to Roswell again, I will now add, that a year later he was killed in a street brawl in St. Louis, where he had resided for months, notorious for his crimes, under the alias, Robert Tolman. A coat and vest marked with his full name, were redeemed by a pawnbroker's ticket found in his pocket, and the fact published at once with the sad, but true moral affixed: "The way of transgressors is hard." It was the intention of Mr. and Mrs. Frederic Knowles, to pass their honeymoon in travelling. But on receiving a letter from Sybil, stating that her father had fainted in the pulpit, after offering a prayer just before the sermon, they left Montreal, where they were spending a few days at the St. Lawrence, and reached Maytown the third morning following the receipt of the intelligence. They found the good man looking much as usual, and engaged in writing a sermon for the next Sabbath. His son warmly expostulated, urging his late feebleness, but though another pastor had been hired to officiate for a few weeks, the silver-haired man expressed an earnest desire to say a few last words to his beloved people.