"Well, well, I believe you," he said; "and if you did think of peaching, I don't fancy you will, when I give you what I've got in my hand. Look here, Miss Barham; you know your brother's a d--d fool.--There, that paper might have hanged him--ay, and it was kept for the purpose of hanging him, too, by that bitter bad scamp, Lieberg, if he did not do what was wrong by you. So there, now, take it, and do what you like with it:" and he held out towards her the very bill that her brother had forged. "Oh, no, no!" cried Helen, drawing back; "I do not know what to do with it." "Not know what to do with it!" cried the man; "why, you foolish girl, I'll shew you then;"--and twisting it up in his fingers, he put it to the light. In a moment it blazed up, and the chief record of William Barham's guilt was at an end. Though Helen dared not do that act herself, yet her heart beat gladly when she saw it done, and starting forward with one of her wild impulses of gratitude, she caught the man's hand, and pressed it to her lips. "Nonsense, nonsense!--don't do that," he cried, actually colouring with a feeling of shame. "Look here! here's another paper I got out of that same pocket-book--a sort of confession that he made your brother sign, all for the sake of getting hold of you--I can't well wonder at it, after all. But then he should have gone honourably about it, and asked you yourself. However, we will serve this the same," and he set fire to it likewise, and threw it into the empty grate. "And now," continued he, "you're to stay here for an hour more, Miss Helen! After that, you may go where you please--back again if you like; but take my advice, and have nothing to do with that d--d rascal, Lieberg, for he's as bad a one as ever lived. He would have made your brother sell you, like a sheep, to save his neck; and that's not the way to get a woman's love, I'm sure." "But how can I get back?" said Helen; "how can I get home?" "Oh! easy enough," replied the man; "you have nothing to do, but to turn to the left out of the door, and walk straight up the street, till you come to the Tontine Inn, and the coach-office; and so now remember, that whenever you see me again, you're not to know me from Adam." "I have promised you most sincerely," said Helen, "and on my word I will keep that promise--you need not be in the least afraid." "I am not--I am not," said the man; "there, give us your hand upon it. Stay here for an hour, and then go where you like." Thus saying, he shook her hand heartily, and was turning to depart, but Helen stopped him, saying, timidly, "But am I safe here?" "Perfectly," replied the man--"perfectly! Why bless your little heart, there's nobody in the house but yourself." "But if the people to whom it belongs should come?" said Helen, "they may think--"