“And why is it impossible? she is very beautiful and very accomplished; so that it is the most likely thing in the world. Why, I would take her without a cent to her portion, if she would have me.” Arthur now determined to find his way out of this mysterious place, and he was the more anxious as it was barely possible that what Darg said respecting Miss Gordon might be true, so he walked to the door opposite and opened it, and there lay his carpet-bag, his trunk and dressing-case—he turned to express his surprise, but Darg had disappeared. “I will open the case now,” said Arthur, “and trust to luck not to break the miniature. I am the sport of some one, and I will put an end to it.” So saying, he opened the dressing-case, and was just in the act of breaking open the little steel-box, when Galton Springle stood before him. “I have found you at last,” said the man, “why how closely you have kept yourself. Did I not tell you to leave your address at the inn?” Arthur was stooping over the case when Springle entered, and on raising up suddenly, he struck the man in the face and crushed the spectacles; instead of letting Arthur assist him, he rushed into the adjoining room and shut the door. “I do believe the fellow had a mask on his face,” thought Arthur, “for I heard something crackle and crush as my head struck him. What brings such a man in a house of this kind; and if he has a mask, why may not Darg be disguised also?—and old Crosbie, it always struck me that his eyes were too deeply set. If I come in contact with them again I will soon find out.” He had scarcely touched the dressing-case to recommence his attempt, when in came the identical Mr. Crosbie. “Oh, you are there, my friend, are you!” said Arthur, seizing him; “you gave me a letter to Mr. Barnes, did you; I shall take the liberty of tweaking your nose for the compliment.” Off came the nose, and off went Mr. Crosbie, and after him rushed Arthur; but being unacquainted with the intricacies of the place he lost sight of him, and on opening a door what was his surprise to find himself in a large parlor, surrounded by a number of persons, and Mr. Herman in the midst of them, laughing merrily. “Walk in, walk in, Mr. Hazerelle,” said Mr. Herman; “what, you found out that old Crosbie had a paper nose, were you not ashamed to expose the poor fellow?” But Arthur had no ear nor eye for him—in the centre of the group stood Grace Gordon, holding in her hand the little steel-box, which a servant had that moment put there. By her side was Abram Snow, looking just as quiet and grave as when in the counting-house. After shaking hands, Arthur turned again to Grace Gordon, for she seemed to be the most sane among them. “Where are Barker and Growler?” said she, laughing. “Godfried Darg, call your dogs.” Mr. Herman whistled, and both dogs came racing into the room. “Now, Arthur,” said Mr. Herman, “here are Barker and Growler, set down the steel-box and let them open the case.”