ome in, sir," said Linton, peremptorily; and
he obeyed. Linton immediately locked the door, and placed the key upon
the chimney-piece; then deliberately seating himself full in front of
the other, he stared at him long and fixedly. "So, sir," said he, at
length, "you have thought fit to become a spy upon my actions. Now,
there is but one _amende_ you can make for such treachery,--which is, to
confess frankly and openly what it is you want to know, and what small
mystery is puzzling your puny intelligence, and making your nights
sleepless. Tell me this candidly, and I'll answer as freely."

"I have really nothing to confess, sir. I was fearful lest you were
unwell. I thought--it was mere fancy, perhaps--that you were flurried
and peculiar this morning; and this impression distressed me so,
that--that--"

"That you deemed fit to watch me. Be it so. I have few secrets from
any one; I have none from my friends. You shall hear, therefore
what--without my knowing it--has made me appear unusually agitated.
It was my intention to leave this house to-morrow, Phillis, and in the
preparation for my departure I was arranging my letters and papers,
among which I found a very considerable quantity that prudence
would consign to the flames,--that is to say, if prudence were to be
one-sided, and had only regard for the interests of one individual where
there were two concerned. In plain language, Phillis, I was just about
to burn the mass of documents which fill that iron safe, and which
it were to the honor and credit of Mr. Phillis should be reduced to
charcoal as speedily as may be, the same being nothing more nor less
than the accounts of that 'honest steward,' pinned to the real and bona
fide bills of Mr. Cashel's tradespeople. There are, it is true, strange
little discrepancies between the two, doubtless capable of satisfactory
explanation, but which, to plain-thinking men like myself, are difficult
to reconcile; and in some one or two instances--a wine merchant's
account, for example, and a saddler's bill--savor somewhat of that
indiscreet procedure people call forgery. What a mistake--what an
inadvertence, Phillis!"

There was something of almost coaxing familiarity in the way Linton
uttered the last words; and Phillis grew sick at heart as he listened to
them.

"A moment more, an instant later, and I had thrown them into the fire;
but your footsteps, as you walked away, sounded too purpose-like; you
were so palpably hones