of the study, now cut off from it by the new partition. She
was in a stifling inclosure, formed by the walls, scarcely eighteen
inches wide. It was made narrower by a singular excrescence on the old
wall, which seemed to have been a bricked closet, now half destroyed
and in ruins. She turned to descend, when a strange sound from Uncle
Sylvester's room struck her ear. It was the sound of tapping on the
floor close to the partition, within a foot of where she was standing.
At the same moment there was a decided movement of the plank of the
flooring beneath the partition: it began to slide slowly, and then was
gradually withdrawn into the room. With prompt presence of mind, she
instantly extinguished her candle and drew herself breathlessly against
the partition.

When the plank was entirely withdrawn, a ray of light slipped through
the opening, revealing the bare rafters of the floor, and a hand and arm
inserted under the partition, groping as if towards the bricked closet.
As the fingers of the exploring hand were widely extended, Marie had no
difficulty in recognizing on one of them a peculiar signet ring which
Uncle Sylvester wore. A swift impulse seized her. To the audacious Marie
impulse and action were the same thing. Bending stealthily over the
aperture, she suddenly snatched the ring from the extended finger. The
hand was quickly withdrawn with a start and uncontrolled exclamation,
and she availed herself of that instant to glide rapidly down the
stairs.

She regained her room stealthily, having the satisfaction a moment later
of hearing Uncle Sylvester's door open and the sound of his footsteps in
the corridor. But he was evidently unable to discover any outer ingress
to the inclosure, or believed the loss of his ring an accident, for he
presently returned. Meantime, what was she to do?

Tell Kitty of her discovery, and show the ring? No--not yet! Oddly
enough, now that she had the ring, taken from his wicked finger in
the very act, she found it as difficult as ever to believe in his
burglarious design. She must wait. The mischief--if there had been
mischief--was done; the breaking in of the bricked closet was, from the
appearance of the ruins, a bygone act. Could it have been some youthful
escapade of Uncle Sylvester's, the scene of which he was revisiting as
criminals are compelled to do? And had there been anything taken from
the closet--or was its destruction a part of the changes in the old
house? How cou