My reveries were abruptly dispelled by the sound of steps along the passage which led to my chamber. My heart began to beat audibly. It was the dead hour of the night--who could be waking at such an unusual time? I sat up in the bed and listened. I heard voices: two persons were talking in a loud tone in the passage, that was certain. For a long time, I could not distinguish one word from another, until my own name was suddenly pronounced in a louder key; and in a voice which seemed perfectly familiar to my ears. The garret in which I slept, was a long, low, dingy apartment which formed a sort of repository for all the worn-out law books and waste papers belonging to the office, and as I have before stated the only furniture it possessed, was a mean truckle-bed on which I slept, and a large iron chest, which Mr. Moncton had informed me, contained title-deeds and other valuable papers, of which he himself kept the key. They were kept in my apartment for better security; as the stair which led to the flat roof of the house opened into that chamber, and in case of fire, the chest and its contents could be easily removed. For a wonder, I had never felt the least curiosity about the chest and its contents. It stood in the old place, the day I first entered that dismal apartment when a child; and during the many long years which had slowly intervened, I never recollected having seen it unclosed. My attention for the first time was drawn to its existence by hearing my uncle say to some one in the passage in a hurried under tone. "Set your mind at rest, the paper is in the iron chest in that room. If you will not rely upon my promise to destroy it, I will burn it before your eyes." "That alone will satisfy my doubts," returned his companion. "Be cautious how you open the door, or the lad will awake." "Nonsense, young folks like him sleep well." "Ay, Robert Moncton, they are not troubled with an evil conscience." This last observation was accompanied with a low sarcastic laugh; and with an involuntary shiver, I recognized in the mysterious speaker the old woman who had haunted my dreams. "Conscience never troubles me, Dinah," returned Moncton, gloomily. "You first taught me to drown its warning voice." "You were an apt pupil," said the woman. "All your natural tendencies were evil. I only fostered and called them out. But what is the use of recalling unpleasant truths. Why don't you silence memory, when you have ceased to feel remorse. But I tell you what it is, Moncton. The presence of the one proves the existence of the other. The serpent is sleeping in his coil, and one of these days you will feel the strength of his fangs. Is this the door that leads to his chamber? You have chosen a sorry dormitory for the heir of the proud house of Moncton." "Hush! I wish he slept with his fathers. But even if he should awake, how could he guess, that our visit to his chamber could in any way concern him?"