“Perhaps you have a rabbit foot.” “No; nor any charm, except such as is possessed by my companion, whose youth and beauty should be sufficient to protect me from all malign influences.” They sauntered down the moonlit garden path. Sweet clove pinks and August lilies freighted the air with their heavy perfume. Lettice remembered that night, not so long ago, when she and Robert had felt the spell of the moonlight, and when she had almost--She drew a sigh which her companion noted. “Does anything trouble you?” he asked gently. “No; it was only that I suddenly remembered something. See, here by this footstone is the place. The soil is light, and the box is not very deeply placed. I think we can soon reach it.” She knelt down on the grass and began to brush away some of the loose leaves and sticks. Mr. Baldwin struck his spade into the dry soil, throwing out the earth deftly and easily. He had been digging for some minutes when Lettice exclaimed: “Surely, that should be far enough. Haven’t you struck the box yet?” “No; I seem to come upon nothing harder than the earth.” She peered over into the hole, resting one hand upon the footstone. Then she exclaimed in an agitated tone, “That is much deeper than I dug, and nothing is there!” “Are you quite sure this is the exact spot?” “Yes, very sure--exactly on a line with the footstone, and a little to the right. Oh, no, I could not possibly be mistaken, for there is not room on the other side, you see. There is some mystery here.” She took the spade and began to feel around with it. “It is gone!” she exclaimed. “Some one has stolen it away. I am as sure as of my existence that it has been stolen away.” “I will dig a little further, and more to the right; you may have gone deeper than you thought.” He threw out a few more spadefuls of earth, but discovered nothing. “There is no box here,” he said at last. “Who could have taken it?” Lettice was silent a moment; then she said in a tense way, “I think I know. The deceitful wretch! The cowardly spy! I will denounce him before the world.” At this very moment a shadow fell upon the white footstone. Lettice turned quickly--Robert Clinton stood before them. “There he is!” she cried. “That is he, the spy! No one else saw me, and I do not know how long he may have been watching me.” “What do you mean?” cried Robert. “Lettice, what do you mean? Of what do you accuse me? A spy? I? Is it possible--” “It is possible that I have learned the value of fair words alone,” she returned scornfully. “I understand many things now. I understand your confidences with those who, like you, would be willing to play into the hands of our country’s enemies. Yes, I believe you are a spy.” The young man turned to Mr. Baldwin, who, leaning upon his spade, regarded the two. “Sir,” said Robert, “will you tell me if this young lady is suddenly crazed? Can you explain this to me?”