able, and lay the mirror, face upwards,
upon your lap, you can see, as you deal, every card that you give to
your adversary. It is not hard to say whether you see a man or raise
him when you know his cards as well as your own. It was as much a part
of a sharper's outfit as the elastic clip upon Sparrow MacCoy's arm.
Taking that, in connection with the recent frauds at the hotels, the
police might have got hold of one end of the string.

"I don't think there is much more for me to explain. We got to a
village called Amersham that night in the character of two gentlemen
upon a walking tour, and afterwards we made our way quietly to London,
whence MacCoy went on to Cairo and I returned to New York. My mother
died six months afterwards, and I am glad to say that to the day of her
death she never knew what happened. She was always under the delusion
that Edward was earning an honest living in London, and I never had the
heart to tell her the truth. He never wrote; but, then, he never did
write at any time, so that made no difference. His name was the last
upon her lips.

"There's just one other thing that I have to ask you, sir, and I should
take it as a kind return for all this explanation, if you could do it
for me. You remember that Testament that was picked up. I always
carried it in my inside pocket, and it must have come out in my fall.
I value it very highly, for it was the family book with my birth and my
brother's marked by my father in the beginning of it. I wish you would
apply at the proper place and have it sent to me. It can be of no
possible value to anyone else. If you address it to X, Bassano's
Library, Broadway, New York, it is sure to come to hand."

The Japanned Box

It WAS a curious thing, said the private tutor; one of those grotesque
and whimsical incidents which occur to one as one goes through life. I
lost the best situation which I am ever likely to have through it. But
I am glad that I went to Thorpe Place, for I gained--well, as I tell
you the story you will learn what I gained.

I don't know whether you are familiar with that part of the Midlands
which is drained by the Avon. It is the most English part of England.
Shakespeare, the flower of the whole race, was born right in the middle
of it. It is a land of rolling pastures, rising in higher folds to the
westwards, until they swell into the Malvern Hills. There are no
towns, but numerous villages, each with its grey Norm