In the darkness, but partially dispelled by the tiny ray of light, his eyes burned and glowed with a phosphorescent luster that marks the orbs of cruel, treacherous creatures, whether human or quadruped. Pausing, he bent his ear and listened intently. The house was still as death. Evidently the inmates were all peacefully slumbering, for a time happily forgetful of their great loss. Haley smiled viciously, showing the white teeth through the bushy mask of hair. He chuckled, low and exultantly. Thus far, his plans had worked admirably. The settler had not suspected him for other than he seemed. “It works like a charm—had I ordered all things, they could not have turned out better to my mind,” he muttered, as his ear was bent close to the door of Fannie’s chamber. “She sleeps—I can hear her breathing regularly. If I can only reach her before she awakes. A cry from her lips would fetch that man upon me, and I do not wish to kill him—not yet; a different death than a quick one by a bullet awaits him. A thousand times I could have done that—but my revenge is better, much better.” These last words were hissed forth with a venom indescribable. Though he knew it not, Archibald Hawksley was entertaining his most deadly enemy. Gently Haley lifted the simple latch, and his eyes snapped exultantly as he found the door yield to his pressure. Deeply troubled, Fannie had neglected securing it before retiring, and now she lay at the mercy of this demon in disguise. Closing the dark-lantern, Haley stealthily entered the chamber, closing the door behind him. That would be another barrier for sound to pass through, in case Fannie should take the alarm too soon for his purpose. The maiden still slept peacefully, breathing soft and regularly. The bed was dimly revealed by the moonlight that filtered through the window shade, and the cat-like eyes of the intruder could just discern the outlines of the maiden’s head and shoulder against the snowy pillow. The light was sufficient for his purpose, and he gently placed the lantern upon the floor, crouching low down upon hands and knees. Thus, unless Fannie should raise up alarmed, he was hidden from her sight. Stealthily, noiselessly, like a serpent of evil, the masked fiend crept toward the bedside, with ready implements that had been provided before entering the house. Fannie breathed on, soft and low, as he noiselessly arose and stood beside her. A ray of moonlight fell upon her countenance, a soft luster-like halo encircled her head, a pearly tear glistened upon her cheek, but that fiend felt no pity—only a ferocious joy that he had thus far succeeded in his designs. The rich brown hair loosened from its fastenings, covered her neck and gently-heaving bosom as with a vail, while one hand seemed pressed above her heart to still its throbbings.