He hurried away, fastening the door carefully after him, and went out in the garden in search of the howling, hungry brute. He found him tearing madly at his chain in his rage to get away and seek for food. It made abortive attempts to reach Mr. Shelton when he came in sight, but the detective coolly drew a pistol from his pocket, and fired a bullet into the brain of the dangerous creature, who instantly fell dead. He then walked away, mounted his horse and galloped rapidly towards the city. At Mrs. Mason's gate he stopped and dismounted. The kind woman opened the door and beamed on him smilingly as she invited him to enter. He did so and soon made known the object of his visit. "My curiosity about the old house we spoke about when I first saw you," said he, "induced me to visit it this afternoon. I did so, and to my horror I found the old people lying dead in the house. While exploring it I discovered a poor, imprisoned woman in a weak and starving condition. She needs to be removed to a safe and quiet place where she may be carefully tended, for she has enemies who would not scruple to kill her if they discovered her whereabouts. Mrs. Mason, you are a kind and motherly woman, and your home is quiet and secluded. Will you receive that poor soul here and take care of her? I will pay you generously for the trouble." Mrs. Mason promised to do all he asked, her kind eyes brimming with sympathetic tears, and he resumed his journey to the city, reported the case to the coroner, and secured a comfortable carriage for the use of Fanny Colville. After the inquest the grateful creature was removed to the tiny cottage of Mrs. Mason. The next day the generous detective took care to furnish wines and jellies and every needful luxury for building up an exhausted frame, and himself conveyed them to the new home of the invalid. CHAPTER XXVII. My readers are wondering, perhaps, as to the fate of our beautiful and unfortunate heroine. Let us go back a little in our story and take up the thread of her adventures. It was the night previous to the day on which the two Leverets came to their death at the hands of Mrs. Vance. Up to that night Lily Lawrence had remained under the guardianship of the wicked old pair. It was nearly nine o'clock when Lily sat before the fire in her room, her small hands resting on the arms of the chair, her eyes fixed sadly on the glowing coals in the grate. Old Haidee had brought her supper in and departed. She was alone for the night. The young girl was simply habited in a neat, dark woolen dress. Cuffs and collar she had none, for Haidee, in providing her a winter dress, had had no thought or care for those delicate feminine accessories of the toilet. The thick, dark fabric fastened about her white throat and wrists rendered her extreme pallor and delicacy doubly striking. The earthly tabernacle seemed growing white and transparent enough for the bruised and wounded young soul to glimmer through.