ess man; and when he had finished reading Yates's
letter, and had exhausted his expletives after his usual manner, he
opened a drawer, and, extracting the paper, read it through. It was more
than six years old, and bore its date, and the marks of its age. All it
needed was the proper signatures.

He knew that he could trust Yates no longer. He knew, too, that he could
not forward his own ends by appearing to be displeased. The reply which
Yates received was one that astonished him by its mildness, its
expression of satisfaction with his faithful labor, and its record of
good wishes. Now that he was upon the spot, Mr. Yates could still serve
him, both in a friendly and in a professional way. The first service he
could render him was to forward to him autograph letters from the hands
of two men deceased. He wished to verify the signatures of these men, he
said, but as they were both dead, he, of course, could not apply to
them.

Yates did not doubt that there was mischief in this request. He guessed
what it was, and he kept the letter; but after a few days he secured the
desired autographs, and forwarded them to Mr. Belcher, who filed them
away with the document above referred to. After that, the great
proprietor, as a relief from the severe pursuits of his life, amused
himself by experiments with inks and pens, and pencils, and with writing
in a hand not his own, the names of "Nicholas Johnson" and "James
Ramsey."

CHAPTER XVIII.

IN WHICH MRS. DILLINGHAM MAKES SOME IMPORTANT DISCOVERIES, BUT FAILS TO
REVEAL THEM TO THE READER.

Mrs. Dillingham was walking back and forth alone through her long
drawing-room. She was revolving in her mind a compliment, breathed into
her ear by her friend Mrs. Talbot that day. Mrs. Talbot had heard from
the mouth of one of Mrs. Dillingham's admirers the statement, confirmed
with a hearty, good-natured oath, that he considered the fascinating
widow "the best groomed woman in New York."

The compliment conveyed a certain intimation which was not pleasant for
her to entertain. She was indebted to her skill in self-"grooming" for
the preservation of her youthful appearance. She had been conscious of
this, but it was not pleasant to have the fact detected by her friends.
Neither was it pleasant to have it bruited in society, and reported to
her by one who rejoiced in the delicacy of the arrow which, feathered by
friendship, she had been able to plant in the widow's breast.

She