got, and what I’d seen.  But when I come to think it all over arterward, I was skeered for true at what I’d done, and for fear Mars’ Winston wouldn’t like it.  What reason could I give him for hidin’ of the pocketbook, ef I give it up to him?  Ef I tole all the truth, she’d be mad as a March hare, and like as not face me down that all I had said was a dream or a lie, or that I was drunk that night and couldn’t see straight.  I’d hearn her tell too many fibs with a smooth tongue and a sweet smile not to be sure of that!  So, all I should git for my care of the repertation of my fam’ly would be her ill-will, and to be ’cused by other people of stealin’, and for the rest of my days she’d do all she could to spite me.  For I’m sure as I stand here, Miss Mabel, that she knew, or thought she knew, somethin’ ’bout that poor, despisable wretch that died up in the garret.  What else brought him a-spyin’ ’round here, and what was there to make her faint when she ketched sight of him a-lookin’ in at her through the winder? and what could a sent her upstars when everybody else was asleep, fur to haul his close about, and poke them fine white fingers of hern into his pockets, and pull his whiskery face over to the light so’s to see it better?  Depend ’pon it, there’s a bad story at the bottom of this somewhere.  I’ve hearn of many a sich that came of gentlemens’ marrying forringers what nobody knowed anything about.  Anyhow, I want you to take keer of this ’ere pocketbook.  Ef I was to die all of a suddent, and ’twas found ’mong my things, some mischief mought be hatched out on it.  It’s safer in your hands nor it is in mine.  Now, I’ll jest light your lamp, and you can ’xamine it, and pitch it into the fire, ef you like, when you’re through.”

In a cooler moment Mabel would have hesitated to obey the advice of an ignorant, prejudiced person, her inferior in station and intelligence.  But in the whirl of astonishment, incredulity, and speculation created by the tale she had heard, she untied the string which formed the primitive fastening of the worn wallet, and unclosed it.

The main compartment contained four tickets, issued by as many different pawnbrokers, testifying that such and such articles had been deposited with them for and in consideration of moneys advanced by them to Thomas Lindsay; a liquor-seller’s score against William Jones—­unpaid; and a tavern bill, in which brandy and water, whiskey and mint-juleps, were the principal items charged against Edmund Jackson.  This last was the only paper which bore the indorsement “Rec’d payment,” and this circumstance had, probably, led to its preservation.  The adjoining division of the wallet was sewed up with stout black thread and Mabel had to resort to her scissors before she could get at its contents.  These were a couple of worn envelopes, crumpled and dog-eared, and stained with liquor or salt water, but still bearing the address, in a feminine hand, of “Lieutenant Julius Lennox, U. S. N.”  In addition to this, one was directed to Havana, Cuba; the other to Calcutta, in care, of a mercantile or banking-house at each place.  A third cover bore the superscription, “Certificate,” in bold characters.