collection of carpenter's tools in
miniature, relics probably of the far-distant time when the Major was a
boy, and when parents or friends had made him a present of a set of toy
tools. The second drawer was filled with toys of another sort--presents
made to Major Fitz-David by his fair friends. Embroidered braces, smart
smoking-caps, quaint pincushions, gorgeous slippers, glittering purses,
all bore witness to the popularity of the friend of the women. The
contents of the third drawer were of a less interesting sort: the entire
space was filled with old account-books, ranging over a period of
many years. After looking into each book, and opening and shaking it
uselessly, in search of any loose papers which might be hidden between
the leaves, I came to the fourth drawer, and found more relics of past
pecuniary transactions in the shape of receipted bills, neatly tied
together, and each inscribed at the back. Among the bills I found nearly
a dozen loose papers, all equally unimportant. The fifth drawer was in
sad confusion. I took out first a loose bundle of ornamental cards, each
containing the list of dishes at past banquets given or attended by the
Major in London or Paris; next, a box full of delicately tinted quill
pens (evidently a lady's gift); next, a quantity of old invitation
cards; next, some dog's-eared French plays and books of the opera; next,
a pocket-corkscrew, a bundle of cigarettes, and a bunch of rusty keys;
lastly, a passport, a set of luggage labels, a broken silver snuff-box,
two cigar-cases, and a torn map of Rome. "Nothing anywhere to interest
me," I thought, as I closed the fifth, and opened the sixth and last
drawer.

The sixth drawer was at once a surprise and a disappointment. It
literally contained nothing but the fragments of a broken vase.

I was sitting, at the time, opposite to the cabinet, in a low chair. In
the momentary irritation caused by my discovery of the emptiness of the
last drawer, I had just lifted my foot to push it back into its place,
when the door communicating with the hall opened, and Major Fitz-David
stood before me.

His eyes, after first meeting mine, traveled downward to my foot. The
instant he noticed the open drawer I saw a change in his face. It was
only for a moment; but in that moment he looked at me with a sudden
suspicion and surprise--looked as if he had caught me with my hand on
the clew.

"Pray don't let me disturb you," said Major Fitz-David. "I have