"It is nought but my fancy," I said aloud, and I shivered at the sound of my own voice. Also many wild fancies flitted across my mind. I thought I saw Lucy Walters change from a beauteous nut-brown maid, with skin fair and smooth, and altogether lovely to behold, into a hideous corrupt-looking hag. She shook a leprous finger at me, and leered mockingly into my face. Again also I thought I heard the mocking cackle of old Father Solomon, which seemed to arouse all sorts of unearthly wails. "It's nought but my fancy," I again repeated aloud, and this time the sound of my voice gave me courage. I no longer feared unearthly visitants. The thing was in my hands, and I would examine it. The lid of the box opened without difficulty, and I saw a piece of paper lying within it. As I saw it I laughed aloud, so pleased was I. Then I took the thing in my hand, and unfolded it. This is what I read:-- _He that diggeth a pit shall fall into it._ _If the iron be blunt, and he do not whet the edge, then must he put forth more strength._ _The lips of a fool will swallow up himself. The beginning of the words of his mouth is foolishness, and the end of his talk mischievous madness._ _Vanity of vanity, saith the preacher, all is vanity._ THE WORDS OF SOLOMON THE WISE. This was all. The marriage contract was gone, and nothing was left in its place save the paper on which the words were written that I have here set down. Eagerly I peered into the hole where the box had been placed; but it was empty. Nothing was there save the void space which mocked me. I stamped my foot in my rage. This, then, was the end of my work. Old Solomon had outwitted me, even as he had said, and I fancied I saw the grin on his face as he had planned my discomfiture. After a time I grew more calm. There must be a meaning in all this. If the old man had planned all this he must have had reasons for so doing. Had he come hither to find me, and being unable to do so had he been stricken with fear? After all the thing I had seen was different from this. I had seen the signature of Lucy Walters, and of Charles Stuart. Nothing could destroy that fact. If the old man had taken the parchment away, and destroyed the house, he had done so with a purpose. He must have had a motive in so doing. Was that motive fear or interest? Besides, the old man must have another hiding-place. True I had been a fool, a double-dyed fool, for not keeping the thing when I had once held it in my hand; but it might not be too late to redeem the past. I would find out the meaning of what I had seen; I would probe the thing to the bottom. All my superstitious fears were gone. I no longer heard whispering voices, or wailing cries; I no longer saw grinning faces or evil forms. The darkness had no dread for me; my anger had driven away all my terrors.