It may not have been Nellie Millbank, but I have always thought it was, and hope that I was right.
Dick Stanton, the false detective, was brought from the private cell in which I had placed him, and was convicted and "sent up" with the rest of the sugar-house gang.
Tige and her companion hyenas were roughly dealt with.
Murder was charged to their account, and was so well sustained that they all received life sentences.
Brown was sent to prison for twenty years, a sentence long enough to insure his never leaving the prison alive.
Helen Dilt was not long kept out of the money which her rascally uncle had so long deprived her of, and the first thing she did was to buy and present to her kind benefactress, Mrs. Morris, a completely furnished home.
Not so very long since I met a gentleman in the street, who clasped me warmly by the hand, as he said:
"Howard, it's a boy, and we think of naming it after you."
The speaker was Mat Morris.
He and Helen have been married some years now, and this boy he spoke of is not the first baby by—well, a few.