tion that an old poet recurs to
his first volume of verse; he may have written better things, and things
that have brought him more money, but those spring leaves are dearest to
him of all. So it was with Trevethick's spring lock. He adjusted the
hands, and the padlock sprang open; he lifted the lid, and the box was
empty; the two thousand pounds in Bank of England notes were gone.

He was a big bull-necked man, of what is called (in the reports of
inquests) "a full habit of body," and the discovery was almost fatal to
him. His face grew purple, the veins in his forehead stood out, and his
well-seasoned head, which liquor could so little affect, went round and
round with him, and sang like a humming-top. He was on the very brink of
a fit, which might have "annihilated space and time" (as far as he was
concerned), "and made two lovers happy." But the star of Richard Yorke
was not in the ascendant. The old man held on by the shelf of the
cupboard, and gradually came to himself. He did not even then comprehend
the whole gravity of the position; the sense of his great loss--not only
of so much wealth, but of that which he had secured with such toil, and
laid by unproductively so long for the accomplishment of his darling
purpose--monopolized his mind. Who _could_ have been the thief? was the
one question with which he concerned himself, and the answer was not
long delayed. It was the coincidence of amount in the sum stolen with
that which Richard had gone to Plymouth to realize, that turned his
suspicions upon the young artist. Why, the scoundrel had fixed upon that
very sum as the test of his possessing an independence for a reason that
was now clear enough: it was the exact limit of what he knew he could
lay his hand upon. But how _did_ he know?--or, rather (for the old man's
thoughts were still fixed upon the mechanical mystery of his loss), how
did he open the padlock? Then there flashed upon his mind that incident
of his having dropped the memorandum out of his watch-case in the bar
parlor in Richard's presence, and the whole affair seemed as clear as
day. It was Richard's intention to change the notes at Plymouth for the
paper of the Miners' Bank, or for gold, and then to exhibit it to him in
its new form as his own property. He did not believe that the young
artist intended to steal it; but he was by no means less furious with
him upon that account--quite otherwise. He piqued himself upon his
caution and long-headedne