The fire had been particularly severe on the legal fraternity in the settlement, and Judge Plunkett’s office, together with those of his learned brethren, had been consumed with the courthouse on the previous night. The judge’s house was on the outskirts of the village, and thither Mr. Gray proceeded. The judge was at home, but engaged at that moment. Mr. Gray would wait, and was ushered into a small room evidently used as a kitchen, but just then littered with law books, bundles of papers, and blanks that had been hastily rescued from the burning building. The sideboard groaned with the weight of several volumes of New York Reports, that seemed to impart a dusty flavor to the adjoining victual. Mr. Gray picked up a volume of supreme court decisions from the coal-scuttle, and was deep in an interesting case, when the door of the adjoining room opened and Judge Plunkett appeared. He was an oily man of about fifty, with spectacles. He was glad to see the schoolmaster. He hoped he was not suffering from the excitement of the previous evening. For his part, the spectacle of sober citizens rising in a body to vindicate the insulted majesty of the laws of society, and of man, had always something sublime in it. And the murderer had really got away after all. And it was a narrow escape the schoolmaster had, too, at Smith’s Pocket. Mr. Gray took advantage of the digression to state his business. He briefly recounted the circumstances of the discovery of the hidden wealth of Smith’s Pocket, and exhibited the memorandum he had shown the doctor. When he had concluded, Judge Plunkett looked at him over his spectacles, and rubbed his hands with satisfaction. “You apprehend,” said the judge eagerly, “that you will have no difficulty in procuring this book from which the leaf was originally torn?” “None,” replied Mr. Gray. “Then, sir, I should give as my professional opinion that the case was already won.” Mr. Gray shook the hand of the little man with great fervor, and thanked him for his belief. “And so this property will go entirely to M’liss?” he asked again. “Well—ah—no—not exactly,” said Judge Plunkett, with some caution. “She will benefit by it undoubtedly—undoubtedly,” and he rubbed his hands again. “Why not M’liss alone? There are no other claimants!” said Mr. Gray. “I beg your pardon—you mistake,” said Judge Plunkett, with a smile. “You surely would not leave out the widow and mother?” “Why, M’liss is an orphan,” said Mr. Gray in utter bewilderment.