“Mr. Saunders, that I am most deeply interested in that person I pledge you my honor as an officer and a gentleman.  Will you now do me the favor to detail all you do know on this subject, and what were the confessions made you by that man Walter James?”

“I have already, sir, told you more than I intended.  I will be candid with you; so much do I respect and value the person in question that I will do nothing without I have your assurance that it will not tend to her unhappiness.”

“Then, on my honor, if it turns out as I expect, it will, I think, make her the happiest woman under the sun.”

“You said that the spy-glass belonged to a dear friend?”

“I did, Mr. Saunders; and if I find, from what you can tell me, that Mrs. St. Felix is the real Mrs. Fitzgerald, I will produce that friend and her husband.  Now are you satisfied?”

“I am,” replied I, “and I will now tell you everything.”  I then entered into a detail from the time that Mrs. St. Felix gave me the spy-glass, and erased the name, until the death of Spicer.  “I have now done, sir,” replied I, “and you must draw your own conclusions.”

“I thank you, sir,” replied he; “allow me now to ask you one or two other questions.  How does Mrs. St. Felix gain her livelihood, and what character does she bear?”

I replied to the former by stating that she kept a tobacconist’s shop; and to the latter by saying that she was a person of most unimpeachable character, and highly respected.

Sir James O’Connor filled a tumbler of wine for me, and then his own.  As soon as he had drunk his own off, he said, “Mr. Saunders, you don’t know how you have obliged me.  I am excessively anxious about this matter, and I wish, if you are not obliged to go back to Deal immediately, that you would undertake for me a commission to Greenwich.  Any trouble or expense—­”

“I will do anything for Mrs. St. Felix, Sir James; and I shall not consider trouble or expense,” replied I.

“Will you then oblige me by taking a letter to Greenwich immediately?  I cannot leave my ship at present—­it is impossible.”

“Certainly I will, Sir James.”

“And will you bring her down here?”

“If she will come.  The letter I presume will explain everything, and prevent any too sudden shock.”

“You are right, Mr. Saunders; and indeed I am wrong not to confide in you more.  You have kept her secret so well that, trusting to your honor, you shall now have mine.”

“I pledge my honor, Sir James.”

“Then, Mr. Saunders, I spoke of a dear friend, but the truth is, I am the owner of that spy-glass.  When I returned to Ireland, and found that she had, as I supposed, made away with herself, as soon as my grief had a little subsided, I did perceive that, although her apparel remained, all her other articles of any value had disappeared; but I concluded that they had been pillaged by her relations, or other people.