an always has a leaning to the Abimelech and Jedediahs of
biblical history; solely, I believe, because the names have a sonorous
roll with them that is pleasant in the mouth of the charlatan.

As I was in the act of going forth--quite at my leisure, for I had no
fear of the clerical poker--my eye happened to alight on a small
side-table, covered with a chessboard-patterned cloth in gaudy colours,
and adorned with some of those sombre volumes which seem like an
outward evidence of the sober piety of their possessor. Among the
sombre volumes lay something which savoured of another hemisphere than
that to which those brown leather-bound books belonged. It was a
glove--a gentleman's glove, of pale lavender kid--small in size for a
masculine glove, and bearing upon it the evidence of the cleaner's art.
Such might be the glove of an exiled Brummel, but could never have
encased the squat paw of a Jonah Goodge. It was as if the _point
d'Alencon_ ruffle of Chesterfield had been dropped in the study of John
Wesley.

In a moment there flashed into my mind an idea which has haunted me
ever since. That glove had belonged to my respected patron, Horatio
Paget, and it was for his benefit the letters had been abstracted from
the packet. He had been with Jonah Goodge in the course of that day,
and had bought him over to cheat me.

And then I was obliged to go back to the old question, Was it possible
that the Captain could have any inkling of my business? Who could have
told him?

Who could have betrayed a secret which was known only to George Sheldon
and myself?

After all, are there not other people than Horatio Paget who wear
cleaned lavender gloves? But it always has been a habit with the
Captain to leave one loose glove behind him; and I daresay it was the
recollection of this which suggested the idea of his interference in
the Goodge business.

I devoted my evening to the perusal of Mrs. Rebecca Haygarth's letters.
The pale ink, the quaint cramped hand, the old-fashioned abbreviations,
and very doubtful orthography rendered the task laborious; but I stuck
to my work bravely, and the old clock in the market-place struck two as
I began the last letter. As I get deeper into this business I find my
interest in it growing day by day--an interest _sui generis_, apart
from all prospect of gain--apart even from the consideration that by
means of this investigation I am obtaining a living which is earned
_almost_ honestly; for if I