tion in her tone, "But it's
all right, any way; the thing is lost now for good, and Mary will be
satisfied without any one being to blame."

I did not linger to hear more; if this was the conclusion she had come
to, she would not wait there long, especially as the sound of distant
shouts and running feet announced that a crowd of village boys was on
its way to the scene of the conflagration.

The first thing I did, upon my arrival at the house, was to assure
myself that no evil effects had followed my inconsiderate desertion of
it to the mercies of the tramp she had taken in; the next to retire to
my room, and take a peep at the box. I found it to be a neat tin coffer,
fastened with a lock. Satisfied from its weight that it contained
nothing heavier than the papers of which Mrs. Belden had spoken, I hid
it under the bed and returned to the sitting-room. I had barely taken a
seat and lifted a book when Mrs. Belden came in.

"Well!" cried she, taking off her bonnet and revealing a face much
flushed with exercise, but greatly relieved in expression; "this _is_
a night! It lightens, and there is a fire somewhere down street, and
altogether it is perfectly dreadful out. I hope you have not been
lonesome," she continued, with a keen searching of my face which I
bore in the best way I could. "I had an errand to attend to, but didn't
expect to stay so long."

I returned some nonchalant reply, and she hastened from the room to
fasten up the house.

I waited, but she did not come back; fearful, perhaps, of betraying
herself, she had retired to her own apartment, leaving me to take care
of myself as best I might. I own that I was rather relieved at this. The
fact is, I did not feel equal to any more excitement that night, and was
glad to put off further action until the next day. As soon, then, as
the storm was over, I myself went to bed, and, after several ineffectual
efforts, succeeded in getting asleep.

XXIX. THE MISSING WITNESS

"I fled and cried out death."
--Milton.

"MR RAYMOND!"

The voice was low and searching; it reached me in my dreams, waked me,
and caused me to look up. Morning had begun to break, and by its light I
saw, standing in the open door leading into the dining-room, the forlorn
figure of the tramp who had been admitted into the house the night
before. Angry and perplexed, I was about to bid her be gone, when, to my
great surprise, she pulled out a red handkerchief from her pock