pocket-book. "With your name in it, sir," he
said.

"My brother's name in it," says Harry; "it was George who gave it to
me."

"I kept it in a locked chest, sir, in which I left it this morning
before I was taken by those people. Here is the book, sir, but the
letters are gone. My trunk and valise have also been tampered with. And
I am a miserable, guilty man, unable to make you the restitution which
I owe you." Sampson looked the picture of woe as he uttered these
sentiments. He clasped his hands together, and almost knelt before Harry
in an attitude the most pathetic.

Who had been in the rooms in Mr. Sampson's and Mr. Warrington's absence?
The landlady was ready to go on her knees, and declare that nobody
had come in: nor, indeed, was Mr. Warrington's chamber in the least
disturbed, nor anything abstracted from Mr. Sampson's scanty wardrobe
and possessions, except those papers of which he deplored the absence.

Whose interest was it to seize them? Lady Maria's? The poor woman
had been a prisoner all day, and during the time when the capture was
effected.

She certainly was guiltless of the rape of the letters. The sudden
seizure of the two--Case, the house-steward's secret journey to
London,--Case, who knew the shoemaker at whose house Sampson lodged in
London, and all the secret affairs of the Esmond family,--these points,
considered together and separately, might make Mr. Sampson think that
the Baroness Bernstein was at the bottom of this mischief. But why
arrest Lady Maria? The chaplain knew nothing as yet about that letter
which her ladyship had lost; for poor Maria had not thought it necessary
to confide her secret to him.

As for the pocket-book and its contents, Mr. Harry was so swollen up
with self-satisfaction that evening, at winning his three bets, at
rescuing his two friends, at the capital premature cold supper of
partridges and ancient Burgundy which obsequious Monsieur Barbeau had
sent over to the young gentleman's lodgings, that he accepted Sampson's
vows of contrition, and solemn promises of future fidelity, and reached
his gracious hand to the chaplain, and condoned his offence. When the
latter swore his great gods, that henceforth he would be Harry's truest,
humblest friend and follower, and at any moment would be ready to die
for Mr. Warrington, Harry said, majestically, "I think, Sampson, you
would; I hope you would. My family--the Esmond family--has always been
accustomed to have faithf