g, as a personal favour,
that you should be sent out to take charge of the packet-agency, in order
that my daughter may have some one at hand to befriend her, and manage
her business affairs for her. You are not personally acquainted with
her, but I know I can trust her with you."

"You may, Mr. Huntingdon," I said, warmly. "I will do anything I can to
aid Mrs. Forbes. When do you wish me to start?"

"How soon can you be ready?" was the rejoinder.

"To-morrow morning."

I was not married then, and I anticipated no delay in setting off. Nor
was there any. I travelled with the overland mail through France to
Marseilles, embarked in a vessel for Alexandria, and in a few days from
the time I first heard of my destination set foot in the office there.
All the postal arrangements had fallen into considerable irregularity and
confusion; for, as I was informed immediately on my arrival, Mr. Forbes
had been in a dying condition for the last week, and of course the
absence of a master had borne the usual results. I took formal
possession of the office, and then, conducted by one of the clerks, I
proceeded to the dwelling of the unfortunate postmaster and his no less
unfortunate wife. It would be out of place in this narrative to indulge
in any traveller's tales about the strange place where I was so
unexpectedly located. Suffice it to say, that the darkened sultry room
into which I was shown, on inquiring for Mrs. Forbes, was bare of
furniture, and destitute of all those little tokens of refinement and
taste which make our English parlours so pleasant to the eye. There was,
however, a piano in one of the dark corners of the room, open, and with a
sheet of music on it. While I waited for Mrs. Forbes's appearance, I
strolled idly up to the piano to see what music it might be. The next
moment my eye fell upon an antique red morocco workbox standing on the
top of the piano--a workbox evidently, for the lid was not closely shut,
and a few threads of silk and cotton were hanging out of it. In a kind
of dream--for it was difficult to believe that the occurrence was a
fact--I carried the box to the darkened window, and there, plain in my
sight, was the device scratched upon the leather: the revolutionary
symbol of a heart with a dagger through it. I had found the Premier's
despatch-box in the parlour of the packet-agent of Alexandria!

I stood for some minutes with that dream-like feeling upon me, gazing at
the box in t