“Oh!  I have lost a package of letters, of no value to any person but myself.  They are family relics, but I will have them at the peril of my life.  I will swear that I have lost other things besides the papers, and will get them back, or make this house pay well for harbouring thieves.  Mind, Green, what I have said.  Keep mum, and I will have them back at the risk of——­”

She was interrupted by the landlady, who very kindly assisted her in finishing her sentence by adding—­“at the risk of perjuring yourself!”

Mrs. B. being startled, exclaimed, “Oh! no, madam, don’t mistake me.  I only meant I would make a great stir about them—­that I would offer a reward to the servants, and at the same time let on as if something very valuable was missing.”

“Of course I would not intimate, and do not, I pray you, understand me as thinking that any person has taken them with the design of retaining them.  I have no idea that the individual having them, whoever he may be, will be base enough to keep them from me.  Some of them are very ancient, and among the number are several sheets of blank parchment, which belonged to my grandfather.  I have preserved them as a memento.  Their loss would be a source of great grief.”

The landlady turned away, apparently satisfied with her statement and forced apology.  She then turned to me and said,

“I will have those papers at the price of my life.  If they are lost”—­here she made a stop and added, “I shall dislike it.”

I discovered an extreme anxiety depicted in her features—­her breast was actually heaving with emotion.

“Green,” said she, “has old Cunningham been about here to-day?”

“I believe not,” was my reply.  “I have not seen him.”

“Well,” she continued, “I hope he may never enter this house again, though he appears to be the best friend that my husband and the colonel possess.  He pays strict attention to his business, at the same time, which does not seem consistent.”

This Cunningham, so abruptly introduced, was a man quite advanced in years, a member of the fraternity, and, considering his age, was a very active and efficient agent.  At this juncture, the old servant, who attended to the room, entered.  She (Mrs. B.) inquired “if any person had been in her room during her absence to the prison.”  The servant tried to recollect.  While he delayed, my heart palpitated violently from fear, lest he might say he had seen me enter her room.  I was on the point of confessing the whole matter.  I felt that I was suspected.  At this critical moment he broke the silence—­a silence burdened with anxiety to the lady as well as myself, by remarking that he had seen the old gentleman (meaning Cunningham) “go up stairs, and he thought enter her room.”