such sacred possessions as
these?

On opening the trunks, one was found to contain books, chiefly French
novels, and the other clothes. None of these gave any fresh clew to
the home or the friends of the fugitive.

Last of all was the writing-desk. This was opened with intense
curiosity. It was hoped that here something might be discovered.

It was well filled with papers. But a short examination served to
show that, in the first place, the papers were evidently considered
very valuable by the owner; and, in the second place, that they were
of no earthly value to any one else. They were, in short, three
different manuscript novels, whose soiled and faded appearance seemed
to speak of frequent offerings to different publishers, and as
frequent refusals. There they lay, still cherished by the author,
inclosed in his desk, lying there to be claimed perhaps at some
future time. There were, in addition to these, a number of receipted
bills, and some season tickets for railways and concerts--and that
was all.

Nothing, therefore, was discovered from this examination. Yet the
result gave hope. It seemed as if no man would leave things like
these--this piano, these pictures, these keepsakes--and never seek to
get them again. Those very manuscript novels, rejected as they had
been, were still things which the author would not willingly give up.
The chances, therefore, were very great that at some time, in some
way, some application would be made for this property. And on this
the magistrate relied confidently.

Obed spent another day in London, and had another interview with the
magistrate. He found, however, that nothing more could be done by
him, or by any one else, at present, and so he returned to Naples via
Marseilles. He called on the prefect of police at the latter city to
acquaint him with the latest intelligence of this affair; heard that
nothing more had been discovered about Mathilde, and then went on his
way, arriving in due time at his destination. He told his sister the
result of his journey, but to Zillah he told nothing at all about it.
Having done all that man could do, Obed now settled himself down once
more in Naples, beguiling his time between the excitement of
excursions with his friends, and the calm of domestic life with his
family. Naples, on the whole, seemed to him the pleasantest spot to
stay in that he had seen for a long time and he enjoyed his life
there so much that he was in no hurry to lea