tion to her own intelligence.

"Are we like to be alone and undisturbed?" Mr. Gridley asked. It was
a strange question,--men do act strangely sometimes. She hardly knew.
whether to turn red or white.

"Yes, there is nobody like to come in at present," she answered. She did
not know what to make of it. What was coming next,--a declaration, or an
accusation of murder?

"My business," Mr. Gridley said, very gravely, "relates to this. I wish
to inspect papers which I have reason to believe exist, and which have
reference to the affairs of the late Malachi Withers. Can you help me
to get sight of any of these papers not to be found at the Registry of
Deeds or the Probate Office?"

"Excuse me, Mr. Gridley, but may I ask you what particular concern you
have with the affairs of my relative, Cousin Malachi Withers, that's
been dead and buried these half-dozen years?"

"Perhaps it would take some time to answer that question fully, Miss
Badlam. Some of these affairs do concern those I am interested in, if
not myself directly."

"May I ask who the person or persons may be on whose account you wish to
look at papers belonging to my late relative, Malachi Withers?"

"You can ask me almost anything, Miss Badlam, but I should really be
very much obliged if you would answer my question first. Can you help me
to get a sight of any papers relating to the estate of Malachi Withers,
not to be found at the Registry of Deeds or the Probate Office,--any of
which you may happen to have any private and particular knowledge?"

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Gridley; but I don't understand why you come to
me with such questions. Lawyer Penhallow is the proper person, I
should think, to go to. He and his partner that was--Mr. Wibird, you
know--settled the estate, and he has got the papers, I suppose, if there
are any, that ain't to be found in the offices you mention."

Mr. Gridley moved his chair a little, so as to bring Miss Badlam's face
a little more squarely in view.

"Does Mr. William Murray Bradshaw know anything about any papers, such
as I am referring to, that may have been sent to the office?"

The lady felt a little moisture stealing through all her pores, and at
the same time a certain dryness of the vocal organs, so that her
answer came in a slightly altered tone which neither of them could help
noticing.

"You had better ask Mr. William Murray Bradshaw yourself about that,"
she answered. She felt the hook now, and her spines w