he dim obscure light. It could _not_ be real! My fancy must
be playing a trick upon me! But the sound of a light step--for, light as
it was, I heard it distinctly as it approached the room--broke my trance,
and I hastened to replace the box on the piano, and to stoop down as if
examining the music before the door opened. I had not sent in my name to
Mrs. Forbes, for I did not suppose that she was acquainted with it, nor
could she see me distinctly, as I stood in the gloom. But I could see
her. She had the slight slender figure, the childlike face, and the fair
hair of Miss Anne Clifton. She came quickly across the room, holding out
both her hands in a childish appealing manner.

"O!" she wailed, in a tone that went straight to my heart, "he is dead!
He has just died!"

It was no time then to speak about the red morocco workbox. This little
childish creature, who did not look a day older than when I had last seen
her in my travelling post-office, was a widow in a strange land, far away
from any friend save myself. I had brought her a letter from her father.
The first duties that devolved upon me were those of her husband's
interment, which had to take place immediately. Three or four weeks
elapsed before I could, with any humanity, enter upon the investigation
of her mysterious complicity in the daring theft practised on the
government and the post-office.

I did not see the despatch-box again. In the midst of her new and
vehement grief, Mrs. Forbes had the precaution to remove it before I was
ushered again into the room where I had discovered it. I was at some
trouble to hit upon any plan by which to gain a second sight of it; but I
was resolved that Mrs. Forbes should not leave Alexandria without giving
me a full explanation. We were waiting for remittances and instructions
from England, and in the meantime the violence of her grief abated, and
she recovered a good share of her old buoyancy and loveliness, which had
so delighted me on my first acquaintance with her. As her demands upon
my sympathy weakened, my curiosity grew stronger, and at last mastered
me. I carried with me a netted purse which required mending, and I asked
her to catch up the broken meshes while I waited for it.

"I will tell your maid to bring your workbox," I said, going to the door
and calling the servant. "Your mistress has a red morocco workbox," I
said to her, as she answered my summons.

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"Where