"May I ask when, where, and of whom you obtained these papers, Miss Badlam?" "Have pity on me, Mr. Gridley,--have pity on me. I am a lost woman if you do not. Spare me! for God's sake, spare me! There will no wrong come of all this, if you will but wait a little while. The paper will come to light when it is wanted, and all will be right. But do not make me answer any more questions, and let me keep this paper. O Mr. Gridley! I am in the power of a dreadful man--" "You mean Mr. William Murray Bradshaw?" "I mean him." "Has there not been some understanding between you that he should become the approved suitor of Miss Myrtle Hazard?" Cynthia wrung her hands and rocked herself backward and forward in her misery, but answered not a word. What _could_ she answer, if she had plotted with this "dreadful man" against a young and innocent girl, to deliver her over into his hands, at the risk of all her earthly hopes and happiness? Master Gridley waited long and patiently for any answer she might have the force to make. As she made none, he took upon himself to settle the whole matter without further torture of his helpless victim. "This package must go into the hands of the parties who had the settlement of the estate of the late Malachi Withers. Mr. Penhallow is the survivor of the two gentlemen to whom that business was intrusted.--How long is Mr. William Murray Bradshaw like to be away?" "Perhaps a few days,--perhaps weeks,--and then he will come back and kill me,--or--or--worse! Don't take that paper, Mr. Gridley,--he isn't like you; you wouldn't--but he would--he would send me to everlasting misery to gain his own end, or to save himself. And yet he is n't every way bad, and if he did marry Myrtle she 'd think there never was such a man,--for he can talk her heart out of her, and the wicked in him lies very deep and won't ever come out, perhaps, if the world goes right with him." The last part of this sentence showed how Cynthia talked with her own conscience; all her mental and moral machinery lay open before the calm eyes of Master Byles Gridley. His thoughts wandered a moment from the business before him; he had just got a new study of human nature, which in spite of himself would be shaping itself into an axiom for an imagined new edition of "Thoughts on the Universe,"--something like this,--_The greatest saint may be a sinner that never got down to "hard pan."_--It was not the time to be framing axioms. "Poh! poh!" he said to himself; "what are you about, making phrases, when you have got a piece of work like this in hand?" Then to Cynthia, with great gentleness and kindness of manner: "Have no fear about any consequences to yourself. Mr. Penhallow must see that paper,--I mean those papers. You shall not be a loser nor a sufferer if you do your duty now in these premises."