"You will see a finer example of their gold-work in this candlestick," said he, turning to another table, and we all joined him in his admiration of its embossed stem and delicately ornamented branches. Altogether it was an interesting and a novel experience to have objects of such rarity explained by so great an expert; and when, finally, Professor Andreas finished our inspection by formally handing over the precious collection to the care of my friend, I could not help pitying him and envying his successor whose life was to pass in so pleasant a duty. Within a week, Ward Mortimer was duly installed in his new set of rooms, and had become the autocrat of the Belmore Street Museum. About a fortnight afterwards my friend gave a small dinner to half-a-dozen bachelor friends to celebrate his promotion. When his guests were departing he pulled my sleeve and signalled to me that he wished me to remain. "You have only a few hundred yards to go," said he--I was living in chambers in the Albany. "You may as well stay and have a quiet cigar with me. I very much want your advice." I relapsed into an arm-chair and lit one of his excellent Matronas. When he had returned from seeing the last of his guests out, he drew a letter from his dress-jacket and sat down opposite to me. "This is an anonymous letter which I received this morning," said he. "I want to read it to you and to have your advice." "You are very welcome to it for what it is worth." "This is how the note runs: 'Sir,--I should strongly advise you to keep a very careful watch over the many valuable things which are committed to your charge. I do not think that the present system of a single watchman is sufficient. Be upon your guard, or an irreparable misfortune may occur.'" "Is that all?" "Yes, that is all." "Well," said I, "it is at least obvious that it was written by one of the limited number of people who are aware that you have only one watchman at night." Ward Mortimer handed me the note, with a curious smile. "Have you an eye for handwriting?" said he. "Now, look at this!" He put another letter in front of me. "Look at the _c_ in 'congratulate' and the _c_ in 'committed.' Look at the capital _I_. Look at the trick of putting in a dash instead of a stop!" "They are undoubtedly from the same hand--with some attempt at disguise in the case of this first one." "The second," said Ward Mortimer, "is the letter of congratulation which was written to me by Professor Andreas upon my obtaining my appointment." I stared at him in amazement. Then I turned over the letter in my hand, and there, sure enough, was "Martin Andreas" signed upon the other side. There could be no doubt, in the mind of anyone who had the slightest knowledge of the science of graphology, that the Professor had written an anonymous letter, warning his successor against thieves. It was inexplicable, but it was certain. "Why should he do it?" I asked.