l having them, whoever he may be,
will be base enough to keep them from me. Some of them are very ancient,
and among the number are several sheets of blank parchment, which
belonged to my grandfather. I have preserved them as a memento. Their
loss would be a source of great grief."

The landlady turned away, apparently satisfied with her statement and
forced apology. She then turned to me and said,

"I will have those papers at the price of my life. If they are
lost"--here she made a stop and added, "I shall dislike it."

I discovered an extreme anxiety depicted in her features--her breast was
actually heaving with emotion.

"Green," said she, "has old Cunningham been about here to-day?"

"I believe not," was my reply. "I have not seen him."

"Well," she continued, "I hope he may never enter this house again,
though he appears to be the best friend that my husband and the colonel
possess. He pays strict attention to his business, at the same time,
which does not seem consistent."

This Cunningham, so abruptly introduced, was a man quite advanced in
years, a member of the fraternity, and, considering his age, was a very
active and efficient agent. At this juncture, the old servant, who
attended to the room, entered. She (Mrs. B.) inquired "if any person had
been in her room during her absence to the prison." The servant tried to
recollect. While he delayed, my heart palpitated violently from fear,
lest he might say he had seen me enter her room. I was on the point of
confessing the whole matter. I felt that I was suspected. At this
critical moment he broke the silence--a silence burdened with anxiety to
the lady as well as myself, by remarking that he had seen the old
gentleman (meaning Cunningham) "go up stairs, and he thought enter her
room."

"I have it!" exclaimed she. "He has got them." I need not tell the
reader I felt greatly relieved, that there was at least the shadow of
evidence, which would serve to clear me and implicate Cunningham. The
lady appeared to be intensely excited. I was in doubt what course it
would be prudent for me to pursue. Finally, I went to the house of
Watkins, and told him that the package I had given him was of no value
to any person but myself; that it was made up of various articles of
writing, containing hundreds of names, many of which were familiar to
me. He looked them over in a cursory manner, and remarked,

"I think there must be witchcraft in these. The letters, though v