I told Mr. Burton that in this matter I trusted to his discretion; that I had not brought it to notice before Mr. Browne, because I shrunk from the danger of fixing a ruinous suspicion upon a person who might be perfectly innocent; yet that circumstances were such as to demand investigation, which I was sure he was the person to carry on. I then gave him a careful account of every thing I had seen or learned about the sewing-girl. He agreed with me that she ought to be placed under secret surveillance. I told him that the officer from Blankville would be in after tea, when we could consult together and dispose of the discussion before the arrival of James and Mr. Browne--and I then rung the bell, ordering a light supper in our room. The Blankville official had nothing to report of Miss Sullivan, except that she had not arrived either at her boarding-house or at the shop where she was employed, and her character stood high at both places. She had been represented to him as a "strictly proper" person, very reserved, in poor health, with a sad appearance, and an excellent workwoman--that no gentlemen were ever known to call to see her, and that she never went out after returning to her boarding-house at the close of work-hours. We then requested him to say nothing about her to his brother officers, and to keep the matter from the newspapers, as we should regret doing an irreparable injury to one who might be guiltless. It seemed as if the Fates were in favor of the guilty. Mr. Browne, punctually at eight o'clock, reported that there was none of the money paid out to James Argyll at Mr. Argyll's order, which the bank would identify--not even its own bill of five hundred dollars, which was a recent issue. They had paid out such a bill on the draft, but the number was not known to them. "However," said Mr. Browne, "bills of that denomination are not common, and we shall be on the lookout for them, wherever offered." "But even should the robber be discovered, there is no proof that it would establish any connection with the murder. It may have been a coincidence," remarked James. "I have often noticed that one calamity is sure to be followed by another. If there is a railroad disaster, a powder-mill explosion, a steamer destroyed by fire, before the horror of the first accident has done thrilling our nerves, we are pretty certain to be startled by another catastrophe." "I, too," said Mr. Burton, "have remarked the succession of events--echoes, as it were, following the clap of thunder. And I have usually found that, like the echoes, there was a natural cause for them." James moved uneasily in his chair, arose, pulled aside the curtain, and looked out into the night. I had often noticed that he was somewhat superstitious; perhaps he saw the eyes of Henry Moreland looking down at him from the starry hights; he twitched the curtains together with a shiver, and came back to us.