on the leads, and pattering among the
broad leaves of a sycamore close to me.
If George only knew where I was now!
He thought I was following my own
pleasure and amusement, while he was
losing heart day by day; but if he
could only see me! The tears smarted
under my eyelids, and I wiped them away.
Looking up again the moment after, I saw
a bright stream of light shining through
the window across the leads.

Becket opened the casement as if she
were coming out, but just then the thunder
drops pattered down with fresh fierceness,
and she closed it at once. I crept cautiously
forward, crouching down to look through
the lower panes of the window. She undressed
leisurely, and folded each one of
her clothes with the minute neatness of a
lady's maid; but she never once put the
satchel out of her hands. When she
wished to draw any of her sleeves over her
left arm she passed it to her right, and then
back again. Her caution was as vigilant
as if she had had a hundred eyes upon her.
At length she deliberately unlocked a large
trunk, and after some searching brought
out of it a little trinket box, which also
she had to unlock with a key hidden in a
pocket in her dress. I did not suffer my
smarting eyelids to wink once while I
watched her. From the box she produced
a parcel tied up in silk and a soft ball of
cotton wool, where there was wrapped
carefully a third key. She rubbed it fondly
with her fingers, lifted it to her lips, and
then drawing a chair to the dressing-table,
she fitted it into the lock of her satchel,
and opened that.

My suspense while Becket sat gazing
down into the gaping satchel was horrible
and inexpressible. What was it her eyes
saw there? Could it be only, as every
body supposed, a purse containing her poor
savings, which she had grown to love with
an irrational covetousness? Or was it
possible that it could be some cherished
relic of her only child, the baby who died
before Lewis was born? Would she take
out the invisible treasure so that I could
see it for myself? Her fingers went down
into the satchel, and handled the contents,
whatever they were, while her eye-balls
glistened with a savage and threatening
light. She looked up once towards the
uncurtained window with a glare so
fascinating in its fierceness that, instead of
shrinking back, I leaned forward, transfixed
with terror, till my face almost
touched the panes. She detected nothing,
however, in the blackness of the night
outside her window; and with an angry snap
she closed the satchel, re-locked it, wrapped
up the key in its padding, locked that
inside the trinket box, which she hid low
down amongst her clothes in the trunk,
and turned the strong key twice upon it.
Then she knelt down, and said her prayers.

I waited a long time after she had put
out her candle. The room was not
absolutely dark, for she had lit a rushlight;
and a very feeble, glow-worm-like light
flickered about it, just showing the great
outlines of her large frame, and her
swarthy face asleep upon the pillow. I
pushed softly and persistently at the casement
until it yielded with a noiseless
motion to my steady pressure. The inner
door had to be unlocked and opened before
I could venture to approach the sleeper;
for I must secure a quick means of escape
should she show any signs of awaking. I
managed it with equal success, and left it
open. All the house was still and soundless,
only as I lingered for a moment listening,
the clock in the kitchen, which was
a long way off, struck one. I could hear,
too, the nightingales, which had been silent
for nearly two hours, begin to call to one
another, and to tune up like some busy
orchestra.

In another ten minutes they would be in
full concert, and Becket's sleep would be
more readily disturbed. I stepped to the
side of her bed, and looked down upon her.
The great strong face, set like iron, was
darker in sleep than when waking, and the
purple veins in her forehead were knotted
and swollen. Her arms, as thick and
muscular as a man's, were crossed upon
her breast, pressing down the satchel upon
it. What could I do? I might as easily
have snatched it from some sleeping lynx.
Yet our future depended upon it—mine and
George's. Lewis would soon be of age, and
then the papers, if they were there, would
be destroyed, and we should lose our only
chance. What could I do? I stretched
out my hand slowly, almost unwillingly,
and touched the satchel upon her bosom—
only touched it.

Such a wild, maniacal shriek broke from
the lips of the mad woman, that but for
the sheer instinct of self-preservation I
should have been paralysed by it. How
I fled in time I do not know; but before
the frantic cry was repeated, and before any
of the household were out of their rooms, I
was back in mine, quaking with panic, and
hearkening intently for a repetition of the