"The poor girl has not a friend on earth, and she has promised to marry me to-day, and after the trial is over she will return to England with me. "She is a good, sweet, true girl, and I don't bear any grudge against her because she has suffered from the arts of a villain through her too confiding innocence." "You have my congratulations, my fine fellow," said Captain Ernscliffe, heartily. "But do you know that you have forgotten to tell me the name of the man who murdered my poor Sydney?" "Why, really, have I neglected to mention his name? You must excuse me, Captain Ernscliffe, for it is one of the traits of my profession to be chary of mentioning names. The man belongs right here in this city, and is a notorious gambler and rogue. He is as handsome as a prince, as wicked as the devil, and his name is Leon Vinton." CHAPTER XLI. "If there be any whom you have not yet forgiven; if there be any wrong you yet may right, let not the sun go down upon your wrath, my son, for verily, you must forgive as you would be forgiven. Upon no less terms than these can you win the pardon and absolution of Heaven." It was the voice of the solemn, black-robed priest, and he stood in the gloomy cell of a convicted murderer, who, before the sunset of another day was to expiate his terrible sin by a felon's death. Even now from the gloomy prison-yard outside could be heard the awful sound of the hammers driving the nails into his scaffold. Upon the low, cot bed reclined the handsome demon whom we have known in our story as Leon Vinton. Wasted and worn in his coarse prison garb and clanking fetters, there was still much of that princely beauty left that had lured youth and innocence to their deadly ruin. But the reckless, Satanic smile was gone from his pallid, marble-like features now, and a glance of anguished terror and dread shone forth from his hollow, black eyes. Like many another wretched sinner in his dying hour, Leon Vinton was afraid of the vengeance of that God whom he had despised and defied all his wicked life. All day the priests had been with him, praying, chanting, exhorting, and now the chilly, gloomy December day was fading to its close, and the long, dreary night hurried on--his last night upon the beautiful earth, through which he had walked as a destroying demon, scattering the fire-brand of ruin and remorse along his evil pathway. "And now he feels, and yet shall know, In realms where guilt shall end no gloom, The perils of inflicted woe, The anguish of the liar's doom! He hears a voice none else may hear, It bids his burning spirit pause; It bids thee, murderer! appear Where angels plead the victim's cause!" Almost a year had passed since the tragic death of unhappy Sydney Lyle. Now outraged justice was about to avenge her death. Conviction had followed swiftly upon the murderer's arrest and imprisonment.