"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."