missing.

"You've lost a button, Spicer," observed I.

"So I have," replied he; and, as we had now arrived at Anderson's door,
my father and I turned from him to walk in and wished him good bye.

Anderson was in his office, and as soon as the door was closed I
communicated to them what had occurred during the night, expressing my
conviction that Spicer was the party who had attempted the murder. In
corroboration I reminded my father of the loss of the button from
Spicer's coat, and produced the one which Nanny had torn off.

"This is something more than suspicion," observed Anderson; "but if; as
you say, old Nanny will not give evidence against him, I know not what
can be done. Did you say that the old woman wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes, and I really wish that you would call there oftener."

"Well," replied Anderson, "I'll go, Tom; but, to be plain with you, I do
not think that I can be of much use there. I have been several times:
she will gossip as long as you please; but if you would talk seriously,
she turns a deaf ear. You see, Tom, there's little to be gained when
you have to contend with such a besetting sin as avarice. It is so
powerful, especially in old age, that it absorbs all other feelings.
Still it is my duty, and it is also my sincere wish, to call her to a
proper sense of her condition. The poor old creature is, like myself;
not very far from the grave; and, when once in it, it will be too late.
I will go, Tom, and most thankful shall I be if; with God's help, I may
prove of service to her."

We then left old Anderson to his duties, and my father went home with
me. We had a long conversation relative to my sister, as well as about
my own affairs. I had intended to have remained some days at Greenwich,
but this was the first time that I had been there since Janet's
desertion, and the sight of everything so reminded me of her, and made
everything so hateful to me, that I became very melancholy. My mother
was, moreover, very cross, and my sister anything but comfortable; and,
on the third day, having received a letter from Bramble, stating that he
had arrived at Deal, and that the easterly winds having again set in,
they talked of setting out again in the galley, I made this an excuse
for leaving; and for the first time did I quit Greenwich without regret.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

IN WHICH IT IS PROVED THAT SAILORS HAVE VERY CORRECT IDEAS AS TO
METEMPSYCHOSIS.

The day after my retur