riage, defiled
by co-habitation with a vile negro--and now _after_ our marriage, is
still desirous of continuing her beastly intrigues. Davis is nothing but
a low-born menial, without education or position, but Julia is by birth
a lady, the daughter of a man of reputation and honor, moving in a
brilliant sphere, possessing education and talent, admired as much for
her beauty as for her accomplishments and wit--and for her to surrender
her person to the lewd embraces of _any man_--much more a negro
menial--is horrible! And then to allow herself to be led to the altar,
enhanced her guilt tenfold; but what caps the climax of her crimes, is
this last movement of hers, to continue her adulterous intercourse!
Heavens!--what a devil in the form of a lovely woman! But patience,
patience! I must set about my plan of vengeance with patience.'

The reader of course need not be told, that the stranger of the Dark
Vaults, and Frank Sydney, were one and the same person. The adventure
had furnished him with the evidences of his wife's criminality and his
servant's dishonesty and perfidy.

That same afternoon, the young gentleman sallied forth from his mansion,
and took his way to the police office. On his way he mused thus:

'By capturing these two villains, the Dead Man and Fred Archer, I shall
render an important service to the community. It is evident that the
first of these men is a most diabolical wretch, capable of any crime;
and the other, I am convinced, is the same Frederick Archer who is the
husband of the unfortunate girl with whom I passed the night not long
since, at which time she related to me her whole history. He must be a
most infernal scoundrel to make his wife prostitute herself for his
support; and he is a _burglar_ too, it seems. Society will be benefited
by the imprisonment of two such wretches--and this very night shall they
both lodge in the Tombs.'

When Frank arrived at the police office, he found a large crowd
assembled; a young thief had just been brought in, charged with having
abstracted a gentleman's pocket-book from his coat pocket, in Chatham
Street. What was Frank's surprise at recognizing in the prisoner, the
same boy who had been his companion in the Dark Vaults, on the
proceeding night! The lad did not know Frank, for there was no
similarity between the ragged, vagabond looking fellow of the night
before, and the elegantly dressed young gentleman who now surveyed him
with pity and interest dep