Rensselaer Union, Volume 9, Number 45, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 July 1877 — THAT BEAD LETTER. [ARTICLE]

THAT BEAD LETTER.

CHAPTFiI I.—FIRE AND THIEF PROOF. Dinner-hour in the manufacturing town of Middleton-qpon-Irk; a hot summer’s day. -We are an energetic and thriving community at Middleton, although you might qot think At just now, when our streets are all deserted, and everybody is engaged in hard feeding. It is no fault of mine’ am not among the everybody A pejemptQi'y engagement retains me at my post.: I expect my Uncle Henry on business pf importance, for which he has chose’h' the dinner-hour, when no one is about, My obligations to Uncle Henry are so great.jhat his wishes are Jaw to me, even when they involve the sacrifice of my dinner. 'He has been my guardian and my best friend. By his help I have been able to sat up on my own account as a solicitor, and, through his influence, I hope eventually to be provided with a respectable praetiee. He is * thriving merchant of our rising town, and one of the best fellows in the world* enterprising and specu-lative-—perhaps rather too much of the last, but there is a cool confidence about him that generally brings him out right in the end. He has no children of his own, but has another ward, a niece of his wife, one Kate Browh, between whom and myself, I may tell you, exists an attachment of long standing. When my practice brings in a sufficient income, Kate and I are to,be married. Something in my uncle’s step upon the stairs gave? me a kind of presentiment of coming misfortune. He came in and threw himself into a chair, flui g his bat upon the flobr, and wiped his face with his handkerchief, an unaccustomed air of weariness and chagrin upon his face. “ All well at home ?” I asked. “ Aunt all right, and Kate?” He nodded in an abstracted way, and flung a telegram across the table to me. It was from his London correspondent: “GilliCs & Co ’s acceptances returned: regular smash; everybody connected with them will come down.” I remarked calmly that it was a very good thing that he was not connected with them. “ But I am, Jim, -worse luck,” he said; “ we were operating in cotton together for a rise, and,'they have drawn upon me for a big figure.?’ I felt that this was bad news, and I did not know what to suggest. But presently Uncle Henry brightened up, and went on to say that, although this would no doubt hit hiffi hard, yet he could weather it as long as his connection with the bankrupt firm wa» unknown. The bills that were now niatfaring, drawn tipon him by Gillies & Co., Wqre payable in London. He must raise £IO,OOO to meet them, and this at once, and With the utmost secrecy. He could do Ifiis easily enough on the security of the title-deeds of the property he had in the town and neighborhood; his banker would advance the amount at once, but he did not want to go to his banker He mould not have it known for the he was raising money on his property, fetter pay a heavy percentage for the'.loan, and deal with a money-lend-er unknoWntb the world of commerce. Could I fina him some one to advance the money at onceW these securities? It was not withput embarrassment that I replied that I thought I could put my hand on such a person at once. Some time before in my hot and foolish youth I had been led ihtd betting a good deal on races, and losing, one Liverpool meeting, a good deal more than I could pay, was recommended to a money-lender—one Bob Hargreaves, of Howbent—who had removed my pressing necessities at a sufficiently exorbitant rate of interest. Uncle Henry had subsequently very generously paid Off'all my debts without asking any questions, only exacting from me a promise to abstain from such courses for the future. Bob, it was well known among the initiated, could find money to any amouiit if he could see his Way to a good profit, and I had no doubt that he would Jump at ’the prospect of getting both a ligh rate of interest and unexceptionable security. Hargreaves was an eccentric kind of man, nominally a tailor, living the life us a recluse, and nervously apprehensive ot having it known that he had any money at all of his own. There was no fear of any want of secrecy on his part. He did not bear the best character in the world, it is true, and it was said that he had acquired his money in a way that would hardly bear investigation. But,, then, you don’t ask the character of a man who is going to lend you £IO,OOO. I telegraphed I to Hargreaves to come over and see me, and the next morning, at the appointed bpur, I heard a tremendous thumping on the stairs, as it a heavy bedstead or something of the kind were being dragged up JPreseptly the door was cautiously held ajar, and a wizened face appeared in the opening. Seeing that I was all alone, Bob -for he it was—whisked dexterously Into the room, encumbered as he was by a crutchhandled stick in each hand, and brassbound wooden clogs on his feet The amount of timber he carried accounted for the noise up the stairs. “ Well, I'm here to oblige you, Master

Turner; but if it’s brass you want, you’ll bear in mind I’m a poor man.” “ Then you are no good to me,” I replied brusquely, “ und you’d better go the way you came.” “ Aye, but I can get a bit of money sometimes, thou knows. There’s many thinks a deal of Bub Hargreaves. But at this minute. I’d take my Bible oath I am worth nothing but what I carry on my back.” » According to appearance that was very little, for he was dressed in threadbare clothes of a dirty snuff brown color; patched and mended, and that would have advantageously borne still more patching and mending. A greasy black cloth cap was on his head, and the only solid thing about him was a heavy cowskin waistcoat, strangely out of keeping with the sultry weather. Atter chaffering awhile —for Bob’s impecuniosity was only assumed to justify a higher percentage —he consented to find the money—at o per cent, for three months—down upon the nail. While he was away to get the money, I sent for Uncle Henry to come and ratify the bar gain. A simple memorandum of deposit of title-deeds was all that was necessary, and this I was not long in preparing; so that the affair was concluded at once, and the parchments handed over to Robert in exchange for £IO,OOO in Bank of England notes, all soiled and limp, as if they had been a long while in circulation. It gave me a great deal of trouble to make, a list of them, for they were of all denominations, and none of the same dates, or of consecutive numbers. I finished the task after a little while, and slipped the list into my portfolio. The notes I placed carefully within my saie, and locked them up. Bob wrapped up his parchments in an old blue cotton handkerchief and hobbled oft, casting many a regretful look behind at my safe, as if it had been a sarcophagus where his heart was enshrined. As soon as Bob was gone, Uncle Henry gave me instructions as to the disposal of the money. On no account was it to go through the bank. It must remain in my safe till the next morning, when I was to take it up to London myself, and retire certain acceptances then coming due, and get back the bills. My uncle, was much pleased thatl had managed the business so promptly, and gave me a check for £SO for my services. He was in excellent spirits now. Cotton had seemed a trifle harder at that day’s market, and should it rise a little more, he would be able, he told me, to put back the £IO,OOO he had just borrowed, and clear as much more beside. In that case, he would settle a good part of the money on Kate, and we might be married as soon as we liked. I went to bed that night in a happy frame of mind, proud of the confidence placed in me, with vague out pleasant dreams of future happiness, when I and Kate should be man and wife. But just at dawn I awoke in a horrible fright, perspiration breaking out all over me. I had dreamed that somebody had robbed the office, and in the moment of waking it flashed upon me that I had left the duplicate key of my safe hanging on its accustomed nail over the fire-place iu my office. In the excitement of the da j I had forgotten about its existence. I rose at once, although it was barely four o’clock, and walked down to my offlee at top speed. There every thing seemed quiet and tranquil; the windows, grim and dusty looking, blinked down upon me in a reassuring way. After all, my scare was uncalled for. There was hardly the remotest chance in the world of thieves getting into the place, and it they did, would they be likely to find the duplicate key? There was no use in alarming the neighborhood by trying to wake up the housekeeper. I would wait until six o’clock, and the world was astir again, and then go and secure the duplicate key. I walked about the deserted town, refreshed myself at an early breakfast stall, and then, as the streets were filling ■with operatives hurrying to work, I presented myself at the door of the building that held my office. •The hou ekeeper nodded at me amicably. No castastmphe had happened in the night evidently. Iran up stairs three steps at a time, darted into my office, and—casting a glance around to assure myself that everything was in statu quo —looked toward the fireplace for the key. It was hanging in its accustomed place. With a feeling of joyous self-congratulation, that no ill effects had followed my carelessness, I pro ceeded in a leisurely way to open my safe, to assure myself ot the safety of the deposit. Judge of my horror anti dismay when I found that the notes were gone—’clean gone. CHAPTER II. —THE DEAD LETTER. To the first stupefaction ot despair at the loss of my uncle’s money followed an eager desire to be Going something. I must go to the police office at once; the notes must be stopped—l had taken the numbers—where was the list? In my portfolio; that, too, I had placed in’the safe; that, also, was gone. Nothing else was touched; the loose silver I kept there was intact. Here was a blow that almost overpowered me. In addition to the loss of money, loss of reputation would follow. What a pretty sort of tale I should have to tell, of a robbery in which the thieves had not left the slightest trace of their operations, where the objects stolen were notes of which I had retained none of the particulars. Those who knew me best might believe me, but certainly no one else would. Ten thousand pounds abstracted from an unlocked safe, the lumbers not known, and no signs whatever of any unauthorized person having entered the premises! Should I believe such a story told of any third person ? One opening for hope ocßttrred to me It was possible that Bob Hargreaves bad kept the numbers o* the notes lie handed over to me. Howbent waa only six miles away; I might be there and back before the hours of business commenced, in ample time, too, to telegraph the npmliers to the leading hanks. After some diftieuity I found a cab, and started to drive there A miserable anxious drive it was. Bob lived in a rough little stone cottage in' the outskirts of the village of Howbent. Early as it was, he was already astir; I could see him through the window, cross-legged on his board, busily at work, stitching away at a cowskin waist coat; even in the overpowering anxiety of the moment, I could nor. help a feeling of wonder at his employment, the rest of his apparel stood so much more in need of his labor. The ground was too soft to give warning of my approach, but my shadow falling across the window made him look up suddenly. Catching my eye, a deadly pallor came over his face, the corners of his mouth began to twitch, he jumped off his board and came to the door. Bob stood in the doorway, regarding me with an air of covert mistrust; then his eyes glanced eagerly aroun i as if be doubted whether I were not accompanied. Seeing only the empty cab and its driver

waiting in the road a hundred yards off, he recovered his self-possession and inaured my business. I asked him, eagerly, 'he haa kept the numbers of the notes be had paid me on the previous day. “ Why, what's amiss; haven’t yon?” parried Robert, with instinctive caution. Something it this me men* prompted me to equal caution. It struck me that Hargreaves would be more ready to give information if he thought that . was already possessed of it. “ Oh, I have the numbers,” I replied, “ but I thought I should like to compare my list with yours.” “ What, you’ve gotten a list then?” cried Robert, “ Tnen what do you want more ?’’ “The notes have been stolen,” I said,and then 1 went on to describe the circumstances of the robbery. Robert listened with a sarcastic, incredulous smile that was very provoking, especially as I felt that his mental attitude toward the story was 'that which the whole world would speedily assume. “ Take my advice,” he said, “go home' and frame a likelier tale than that. Same time, if your uncle’s in with ye, I’m not one to spoil sport. There’s one lie to begin with; if they took thy case with the numbers in it, how you come to know ’em now?” I replied, scarcely noticing the insinuation, or broad assertion rather, contained in Robert’s speech; I was too broken-spirited. “But I must compare them with yours. Oh, do give me the numbers Mr Hargreaves.” ”Nay, I've gotten no numbers,” hereplied, sullenly; “what’d be the use of numbers to me? I’d work enough to gather ’em together, bit by bit and one by one, without bothering about numbers. I’m no scholar, either, for that matter.” With that he slammed the door in my face, and went back to his board; but I saw no sign of the cowskin waistcoat, as I passed his window, dejected and crestfallen. Bob was Bitting with his needle in his hand, gazing at its point in a kind of sullen reverie. In him was the last gleam of hope I possessed, and I could hot give it up without another trial. “ I’m sure you could tell me something about them, Mr. Hargreaves,” I cried to him through the window, “ where you got them from, some of them.” “I tell thee what,” said Bob from his board, “ I swear my Bible oath I know naught more about thy notes, so go thy ways.” There was nothing to be gained by wasting more time over Robert, and 1 drove away homeward, still more wretched than before. By the time we reached Middleton business had commenced at my uncle’s warehouse, and, always early at his work, he was there himself, busily occupied. The telling him was the worst part of the business, but he uttered not a word of reproach, and evidently fully believed my account of the matter. Still, as he paced up and down his room with a gloomy, ashen face, I saw that the disaster was one that affected him bitterly. “Have you told the police?” he asked sharply, at last. “No,” I replied, “Tam now on the way; I have only seen Robert Hargreaves since.” “Thank Heaven, you have' not. The thing is bad enough, let us make the best of it. Not a word to anybody of the loss, except Kate; you may trust her; but not another living soul.” My uncle was right, I could see, Hard as it Was to keep quiet. The tale of such a loss, under these suspicions circumstances, at this especial juncture, would be fatal to his credit. As it was, he might be able to tide over his difficulties. He would go to London at once and try to get the bills held over. And if cotton would only spring a little! Already Uncle Henry was over the worst of his misfortune, and going about his business alert and composed But for me, how could I bear the thought of the probable ruin—disgrace, even—l should have brought upon my friend and benefactor! I kept up till I had seen him off by the London train. Then I hurried off to Kate to tell of the irretrievable misfortune and to get a little comfort, where only comfort was possible, from a woman’s sympathy. Kate, when I first told her the news, was overcome with grief and dismay. But she soon recovered presence of mind and courage, and tried to re-establish mine. It was possible to do something in the matter. If we could take no open measures to find out the thieves, we might try secret negotiations. Those who had stolen the notes would likely enough be afraid to cash them at once; perhaps they would be open to an offer, and appreciate the advantages of a good, round sum, and safety therewith. Without loss of time, I inserted an advertisement in all the local papers and the London dailies, offering a reward of £l,ooo for the recovery of the missing notes. But no result followed; whoever was in possession of the notes made no sign. Next day back came Uncle Henry from London, having succeeded in renewing his bills for another fourteen days. It was now the middle of June—on die 3d of July the delay would expire. There could be no further credit given, for things were getting woise and worse in town, Gillies & Co.’s failure had caused universal mistrust and want of confidence. But if cotton only sprang an eighth per pound, all would be well. Cotton did not spring, however, but fell a trifle instead. Failures were rife at Middleton as well as in London. The strongest firms were talked about, and Uncle Henry did not escape. Still, he carried on matters bravely; and when the fourteen days had passed, if there should happen no favorable change in the markets, things would be bad with him. I now bitterly regretted that the loss of the notes had not been made public. It would be a pretty story for my uncle’s creditors, if he had to call them together —all the more improbable, too, as this would be the first that had been heard of it But it was too late now;to say anything about it would only precipitate matters,' indeed, and destroy Uficle Henry’s last chance. • Day after day passed away, bringing no improvement in the stale of affairs. It was now the last day of the month; on the 3d of next month, if no help came, uncle would have to stop payment. I was sitting at my desk, the pen id’e in my hand, nrooding over coming misfortune, when I heard a letter drop into my box and the quick rap of the postman. It was only a dead letter after all —some letter I had misdirected, no doubt; another piece of carelessness or stupidity to go to iqy account, swelling by ever so little the great balance against me. Ten thousand pounds! Why, a whole life’s slavery would not be an equivalent I flung the dear) letter from me in disgust, and returned to my dismal reverie. There it lay, however, looking at me reproachfully. and I took it up at last to be rid nt it. But on tearing open the Postofflce envelope, I found that the letter within was notin my handwriting, but apparently, in that of some illiterate person, and that the address was that cf a person I knew nothing about. It waa an unopened letter, addressed to “Captain Sam White, Nowlaud’s Row, Middleton.” Why had they 'ent it back to me, who certainly had not written it? The secret was that the envelope was one of mine—its seal embossed with my name and address—and thus it

had been sent to me at once, failing its delivery to the addressed. It was very cocl of somebody to make use of my envelope. Still, as the letter had nothing to do with me, I had no right to open it, and I was about to inclose it to the Post-master-General, asking him to have the letter opened and returned to the original sender, when Kate came in as usual, to see if I had heard anything. ?‘No news again to-day, James?” she asked, stoutly; “ No news, Kate,” and we bvth qighed; then she looked over my shoulder to see what I was doing. “Ch, Jim!” she said reproachfully, taking the letter from my bands, “you are corresponding with those betting men again; you are trying to get back uncle’s money that way, and you will only make it worse.” Then I remembered that Sam White was a betting man who had been advertising a good deal lately. I explained to Kate how the thing had happened, and she quietly disposed of my scruples, and satisfied her own curiosity, by seizing the letter, tearing It open ana taking it to the window to read. As she reaa, her pretty face was puckered up into all kinds of puzzled wrinkles. “ I can make nothing of it,” she said, at last, handing me the dead letter. It was dated the 18th of lune, the day after the robbery, but bore no date and no signature. •* Risplcted trend—Have a Ute! job lot of calicer print*, ten thownend yards or so, sewtable for furren market. I'll come over and see thee on the hirst, and mind ye have the ahinera reddy. Owld place, at 'leven 1’ t’ morning.” “Jem!” cried Kate, when I had finished reading, no light coming to me in the process, “ were there any envelopes in the portfolio that was stolen with the notes?” “ Yes, there certainly were a few, and stamped with my name and address on the seal.” “ Then that letter is from the thief and the ten thousand yards of calico are the notes, and he is going to meet somebody on the first, that is to-morrow, and get rid of them.” There was no doubt that Kate was right, and I rose and hugged her on the spot at the joy of her discovery. But, after all, when the first burst of delight was over, how were we the better for this letter? The postmark was Middleton; there was nothing in the letter itself to give any clue to the writer. But if we could find out the person to whom it was addressed and keep a watch on him ? The Postofflce people had not been able to find him; but, although Sam White might have no definite address, there was no'doubt that he was still in existence. His advertisements appeared in the papers constantly, although the crusade of the police against betting men compelled him to keep out of the way; My former experiences stood me in good stead. I found out a man, an occasional tout, who knew all about hitn. “Sam White!” said the man, “why he’s going to be wedded this blessed morning;” He wffiTdt to inform me that White was about marrying a young woman with a lot of money. He was going away to Paris for his wedding trip, and a few of his friends were going to the station presently to sej him off, and give him a parting cheer. Making myself out to be in the category of Sam White’s friends, I got permission to join the party, and soon after noon the bride and bridegroom made their appearance at the station and were chased into a first-class carriage by the waiting crowd of admirers, who howled and cheered in the most rowdy fashion. The Captain did not seem over-pleased with the attentions of his friends, and the bride was decidedly frightened. She was a very pleasant-looking, pretty young<»woman, by the way, and in form and reminded me a good deal of Kate. The opportunity was not to be lost, and jumping upon the carriage step, I thrust the dead letter before him, and telling him that it was a matter of life and death, begged him to say what he knew about the writer. He snatched the letter from my hands, crumpled it up, and flung it out of the window, bidding me begone for an impudent rascal. The train moved oft’ amid a salvo of cheers from White’s admirers, and I picked up the letter, somewhat crestfallen and disconcerted. My friend, the tout, sidled up to me again. “ Cutup rather rough with you, did Sam, sir? Set a beggar on horseback, you know. Was it money you wanted of him ?” As a forlorn hope, I showed the man the letter, and asked him if he could make any guess as to the writer, adding that it might be £5 or £lO in his pocket if he could find out. . The man’s face brightened, and his whole aspect changed. “I don’t know the hand-writing myself, but give me three hours and I’ll find out all about it.” We made an appointment to meet at my office, and. punctual to his time, the man appeared. He had found out that Sam White was in the habit of meeting some old fellow, not connected with the turf, on secret business at the Three Pigeons, a public-house in one of the lowest quarters of the town, frequented by thieves and other disagreeable characters. The landlord of the inn, one Grinrod, a retired prize-fighter, was a fierce and dangerous fellow, and my friendly tout confessed that a misunderstanding about a disputed bet had made him afraid to venture near the place, and he could gather no further information. The whole day passed away, and nothing more could be done. Kite looked despairingly at me as I told her what had passed. Capt. White had gone out of our ken. and out of English jurisdiction altogether ; his correspondent was still a mysterious nothing. The clue that had been so marvelously revealed to us bad all come to naught. Il was enough to make us despair. CHAPTER lII.—THE THREE PIGEONS. There was a dinner party at my uncle’s that night—a very grand one. I never saw Uncle Henry more gay or, to all appearance, in better spirits, and yet three days at the outside would see him a ruined man. Among the guests was Major Smith, the chief Constable of the town, a bachelor and bon vi&int, who was still rather a ladies’ man, and not averse to making himself agreeable to Kate. He took her down to dinner, and I kept a watchful eye upon them A greatepergne of flowers was between us. but in the lulls and pauses in the general clatter I could hear what they were saying. He was very fond of talking about the great people that he knew, and had been'lndulging in along flourish about his dear old friend and comrade, Lord ——, when Kate brought him down to the common level by the question: “ Pray, Maj. Smith, do you know a Capt. Sam White?" “White?” cried the Major, rather nettled at being cat short. “White! of what regiment?” “ Oh, I don’t know that, but he lately lived at Nowland’s Row.” The Major’s eyes at once assumed the keen twinkle of the Chief of Police. “ Have you been plunging into the betting ring, Miss Brown? Sam White is a dangerous fellow. He has the character, too, of being a r-ecret ‘ fence.’ u

That was all I could hear, for the tide of conversatir n rose once more, and drowned all IndivlduaFvoices. I did not enjoy my dinner that evening. I fell that we were on the edge of a precipice. It seemed, Indeed, likely enough that Maj'; Smith might soon have the task of hauling us off to prison, on a charge of fraudulent concealment of property. After the guests were gone, Kate and I bad a long and serious consultation together. If the next day passed over our heads without bringing something to light, farewell tohope altogether. It was hardly likely, indeed, that the unknown criminal would keep the appointment he had made, as be had received no reply to bis letter. Still, there was the chance that he would. Would it be possible to get somebody to represent Sam White, and keep the appointment on his behalf ? That was out ot the question. White was too well known. Then, although wc assumed that the Three Pigeons was the “old place” mentioned in the dead letter, yet were just as likely to be wrong altogether. Then Kate’s face lighted up, and I saw that she had an idea. “ You say that the bride of Capt. White was a good deal like me. Well, why should I not make believe to be Mrs. Sam White, and go to keep the appointment on his behalf?” I Lad a great many objections to urge to such a plan, but one by one Kate overruled them. But I persuaded her to make this addition to her scheme, that I should accompany her in the guise of her husband’s clerk, or secretary. Finally, we made an appointment to meet at ten o’clock the following morning, and go to the Three Pigeons. As we pushed open the swing-doors of the Three Pigeons, a strong wait of mingled odors—beer and spirits, flavored with tobacco, and a slight suspicion of wet sawdust—drove against us; a babel of voices, too, surged out, jocose, maudlin, quarrelsome. Kate shrank back and got behind me; for a moment she was not prepared for such an ordeal as this. A crowd of people were clustered about a sloppy, pewter-covered counter, wrangling, laughing, snarling, swearing. The most alarming thing was that, at the sight of us, the noise suddenly ceased, and all eyes were directed toward us. The landlord, a huge, brutal-looking man, was baling out supplies of liquor, rigorously exacting the price before delivery, helped by two slatternly-looking women. He glared at us with hot, blood-shot eyes, and seeing that we hesitated at approaching the drinking counter, fiercely demanded our business. Kate marched up to him with well simulated boldness. “I am Mrs. Capt. White,” she whispered. At once the man’s countenance cuanged and assumed a more friendly asp<.ct, and he led the way to an up-stair room. “ But what do you want?” he said tome, laying his hand on my breast in a threatening manner, as 1 was about to follow Kate. “ You’ve naught to do with the Captain?” Kate at once explained that I was the Captain’s new secretary or agent. Her husband was obliged to keep out of the way, owing to police persecution; but he had an important appointment here, and had sent her and his new secretary to transact the business, in confirmation of this she handed him the dead letter. Grinrod spelt it over with a cautious but comprehending face. “ Aye, it’s all right, no doubt,” he said. “ I charge a sovereign for the room, you know.” Kate bade me to pay this at once; and, as soon as the money had passed, Grinrod remembered that a telegram Had just come for the Captain, which, perhaps, bore upon the. matter in hand. He went to the bar and brought back the telegram. Kate opened it and read it, and handed it over to me with a gesture of despair. It was from “ A friend, Howbent, to Capt. White, “Three Pigeons,” laconically, “As thee do not answer, I shall na come.” Now it seemed that all our trouble and pains had been lost. The unknown would not come forth and be revealed. Our chance was gone. The landlord looked at us inquiringly. No doubt he had read the telegram, and knew that it was a putoff’. “ Oh, he’s not coming, then. Well, why don’t you wire him to come over? You can have the room till he comes, only, as it is wanted a deal, I shall charge you another pound for the use of it.” The suggestion was a good one, if we had known to whom to send the message; but, in the latter case, we need not have been going through tins disagreeable, dangerous experiment at the Three Pigeons. “I don’t think,” I said at last, “that my employer would approve of my sending for this man; it looks like being overanxious about the bargain.” I looked over at Kate, who at once took the cue. *Yes; I am sure my husband would not like it. But if you, my dear Mr. Grinrod, would kindly let him know, without our knowing anything about it—you know what a temper the Captain has—that Captain White is here waiting for him, I would pay for the room and five shillings for the message, cab, and so on, and should be so much obliged to you.” The irascible, suspicious Grinrcd was mollified and subdued by the power of beauty. “ I’ll do anything to oblige a lady,” he said, and went out to dispatch the message, evidently knowing quite w’ell where to send it. Never did hours pass so slowly as those that elapsed while we were waiting at the Three Pigeons for the unknown thief. Twelve o’clock struck from the church clock opposite; time crept slowly on, still nobody came. Another hour struck, and we began to feel that it was useless to wait longer. Just then we heard a bell ring, and Grinrod bustled in. “ He’s here, at the private door; shall I show ’im up ?” Kate nodded. The next few minutes seemed an age. There was a whispered conference at the door; then we heard something on the stair, thump, thump, thump, as if a heavy piece of furniture was being dragged up. Then the, door opened and revealed the cunning, wizened face of Bob Hargreaves He had evidently come in hot haste; the nerspiratlon streamed from his face,which he was wiping nervously with his blue cotton handkerchief, tfe wore the very same costume as when I first saw him, except that the cowskin waistcoat was replaced by one of dirty white cotton. “ I’m late, missus,” he cried, making a kind of awkward salute. “And so the Captain couldn't come; well, he’d ought to let me know.” At this moment he caught sight of me. I could withhold myself no longer, and rushed eagerly forward. His face became livid, and then green. He turned to escape, but hisstick slipped from under him, he came down heavily, his head striking against the corner of the table, and lay there insensible. It was not a tinie for thinking of legal niceties, and I had no scruples in turning out his pockets at once, making sure that I should find the missing botes. I soon came to a big, greasy pocketbook, and

opened it, but the notes were not there. A thorough search only revealed inti is ossession a half-crown, a few coppen, a return third-class ticket for Howbent and a pawnbroker’s duplicate for the cowskin waistcoat, pledged tor half-a-crown that morning. I was staggered at this last apparent proof of the man’s impecunioeity, and certainly the position was an awkward one. Hargreaves, for the moment stunned by the tall, was fast recovering his senses. On the face of it I had been guilty of an aggravated assault and robbery. And I had not a tittle of evidence against the man. “ I think we’d better get out of this as fast as wc can,” I said to Kate. “ Mr. Hargreaves has been too many for us,” and I began cramming his things back into his pocket. "Stop,” cried Kate. “Jim, I have been thinking; there is just one chance. Let us steal the pawnticket.” The thought that was in her mind also flashed upon me. I slipped the ticket into my pocket, Kate put her arm in mine, we marched tioldly down-stairs and out of doors: we were iu the street before anybody had noticed u». Then we went straight to the pawnbroker’s shop and redeemed thu cowskin waistcoat, carrying it off to my office, where we carefully examined it. At first sight there was nothing remarkable in the waistcoat; but Kate’s attention was speedily drawn to the elaborate, way in which the lining was quilted in, and the painstaking stitching alxmt it. It was an exciting moment when, after unpicking some of the lining, she brought the corner of a piece of paper to light. It was a bank-note, and, bit by bit, as the waistcoat was unpacked, note after note came to light till the whole amount of £IO,OOO was made up! You can imagine our joy as we put the missing money into Uncle Henry’s hands. He was on the point of calling in an accountant to take charge of his books, and inform his creditors that he could no longer meet his engagements, but the recovered £IO,OOO put a new aspect on affairs. My uncle’s credit was saved We sent the cowskin waistcoat to Mr. Hargreaves, at Howbent, with a polite note, begging him to accept the two and seven-pence-halfpenny we had paid for its redemption, as compensation for the slight damage we had aone lining—a damage which his skill in his craft would enable him speedily to repair. We saw nothing more of him till the end of three months, when a favorable turn of affairs enabled my uncle to repay his loan with interest. Then Bob was seized with remorse, or some feeling that answered the same purpose, and he confessed to me that he had stolen the notes that we had so fortunately recovered. The devil had tempted him, he said; for he had noticed that, when I locked up the safe, 1 made use of a key I took from a nail over the flreolace, and that I returned it to the same place. The temptation to clear £IO,OOO at a blow was irresistible. He watched me out of the office, and had no difficulty in shooting back the lock of my door with his clasp-knife. There was no risk; for, had he been found in my room, he would have had a plausible excuse ready. Then he found the key of the safe hanging where I had left it, and was soon in possession of the money he had so recently parted with. He took my portfolio, too, for he had seen me put the list of notes there. He would have gone to London next day and cashed them, had he not heard from me that I had a copy of the list of numbers—may I be forgiven for the falsehood of the occasion!—but, assuming that the notes would be stopped, he wrote to Capt. White, who, from his frequent visits to the Continent and his habit of dealing with large sums Of money, was a convenient agent for the purpose. I fancy that Bob had had similar dealings with him before of a like nature, although he solemnly affirmed that he had not. As Robert said, he was no scholar, and had not noticed, in using one of my envelopes for the sike of economy, that there was any but an ordinary device on the seal. If he had he would have thought nothing of it; and he was still in wonder as to the way in which we found out bis appointment with White. He had seated the notes up in his cowskin waistcoat the day after he stole them; in fact, that was his occupation on the morning of my visit. And be secured a place of safe deposit for his money by pawning the waistcoat on his way to meet Capt. White. After all. Uncle Henry made a lot of money through being obliged to hold on to his cotton; for it rose suddenly a halfpenny a pound, on receipt of disastrous news of the new crop. He behaved very handsomely to Kate on the occasion of our wedding the other day. I often shiver when I think of how nearly I had shipwrecked all our prospects for life by a moment’s carelessness; and, under Providence and next to my wife, Kate, I have nobody to thank so much for getting me out of the scrape as Her Majesty’s Post-master-General, who sent me that unopened dead letter.—AW the Year RouAd.