"He has a shrewd face, an intelligent eye--an eye to detect treachery, and defy danger." "On the contrary, a babe might deceive him." "He has been educated in too hard a school to revel in such ignorance, Moncton." "Hold your tongue, Dinah, and give me the light. Remember how you were deceived in his cousin Philip." Mr. Moncton's hand was on the lock of the door: an almost irresistible impulse urged me to spring from the bed and draw the bolt. On second thoughts, however, I determined to feign sleep, and watch all that passed. Resistance on my part would have been utterly useless, and I was anxious to find out if possible what connexion existed between my uncle, George Harrison, and this strange woman. All this darted through my mind on the instant; the rays of the candle flashed upon the opposite wall; and my uncle, followed by his odious-looking companion, entered the room. My intention of watching all their movements was completely frustrated by Mr. Moncton, who, advancing with cautious steps to my bed-side, held up the light in such a manner as not only to reveal my face, but the attitude in which I lay. "Is he sleeping?" he whispered to his companion. "He breathes like one in a profound slumber," was the reply. "'Tis a fine lad. How much he resembles Sir Alexander." "His father, rather," sneered Moncton. "He's a second edition of Ned; but has got more brains. Thanks to his grandfather, Geoffrey, and his own mother, who was a beautiful, talented creature. Stand by the bed, Dinah, and keep watch over him while I light that lamp which he has left on the window-sill, and search for the papers." The old woman took the light from Mr. Moncton's hand, and his station beside my bed. My too lively imagination pictured the witch-like face, with its dark, snaky eyes, bending over me, and I found it impossible to maintain, with any appearance of reality, the composure I had assumed. In order to conceal the excited state of my mind, and to convince her of the certainty of my pretended slumber, I threw out my arms, and began to toss and turn, and mutter in my sleep, putting on all the contortions which generally convulse the countenance of persons while writhing under the influence of some terrible dream. A state of perfect quiescence might have aroused suspicion; the noise I made completely lulled theirs to sleep. Meanwhile my uncle had unlocked the chest, and I heard him toss the papers it contained, upon the floor; while, from time to time, he gave utterance to expressions indicative of vexation and disappointment. After examining the contents of the box thoroughly, and returning the parchments to their original place, he said in a mortified tone: "The papers are not here. How they have been abstracted I cannot imagine, as I always keep the key in a private drawer of my cabinet, which is known only to myself." "Did you place them there yourself?" demanded the old woman, in a hurried whisper.