her carriage in full ball costume, and float up
the steps of a house where an entertainment is
being given. The windows of the house blazed,
and the hall door stood open. A little crowd
had gathered, and I stopped perforce to view
the spectacle with the rest. The lady in this
case was dressed with superlative splendour,
and the light from the hall above fell full on
her face. With a curious start I recognised
Lucretia Fitzgibbon.

There was no mistake about it. I heard from
the coachman that the carriage belonged to my
Lady Humphrey, and I also learned from him
his master's address. I know not why it could
have been that I felt at that moment a desire to
go and see Giles Humphrey. There were others
in town whom I had a longing to see, and I never
had liked either him or his wife. But it is
impossible to look back upon one's actions in this
way. Certain it is that I went.

I found him in a splendidly appointed house
in a fashionable neighbourhood, a shrivelled
palsied old man, an invalid chained to a seat by
his dressing-room fire, while his gay wife fluttered
abroad, and scattered the money he had hoarded
so grimly. The poor wretch was glad to see
me. When I had talked to him a while I found
that there was not a pauper in the streets more
utterly friendless than he. He spent his days
in a handsome jail, and my lady was as flinty-
hearted a keeper as ever turned key on a felon.

Sitting over his fire with a lamp shaded to so
dim a light that we scarcely could see one
another's faces, while the carriages rolled past
under the windows, and echoes of thundering
knocks at gay hall doors reached us, he told me
the secrets of his life since we last had met.

I think it was because I saw death plainly
written in his miserable face that I listened so
tolerantly to his whimpering complaints of Lady
Humphrey. Her ill-treatment ot' him, which he
cursed so bitterly, dated back to the day after
their marriage, when he had discovered that
instead of allying himself with enormous wealth,
he had married a penniless adventuress, who
was deep in a very slough of debt, and existing
upon the brink of exposure and ruin. Never
had there been a day of domestic peace between
them. She had treated him like a prisoner from
the first, taken possession of his money and his
keys, and even corrupted faithful Jacko, whom
she had pressed into her service. She spent a
gay life abroad, while he, poor creature, could
hardly crawl across his chamber alone. He was
savagely jealous of the people amongst whom
she spent her time, the friends and admirers who
lounged about the drawing-room; the letters
and presents she received tormented him. There
was a certain casket, it seemed, which at times
she paraded before his eyes, but of which he had
never seen the key. And the poor wretch,
brooding in his solitude, panted for a view of
the interior of that casket, as though his very
life depended upon what it might contain.

I sat with him late that night; I promised to
come back and see him again, and I did so,
always at night, and invariably finding Lucretia
from home. In truth, I did not want to see her.
The more I heard of her doings, the more horribly
strong grew a doubt which had risen within me
on the night of my first conversation with Giles
Humphrey. It clung to me night and day, and
so nearly did it approach conviction at times,
that it had like to drive me insane.

I ventured to say to my uncle one evening,
"Could it have been possible that it was
Lady Fitzgibbon who committed the robbery at
Ballyhuckamore on that memorable Christmas-
eve?"

But he stared at me in amazement, and said,
stupidly:

"Why, don't you remember, it was the little
O'Shaughnessy who did that piece of business?
She told on herself by dropping a bracelet on
the step of her door. Little good her ill-gotten
gains have done her, I hear, for the old father
died wretchedly, the barrack of a castle is given
up to the rats, and the wench herself is drifting
about the world, the devil knows where!"

So it was no use talking in this way to Giles
Humphrey. Yet I came to see him again and
again, hanging about him in the vague hope that
something might some day arise between him and
his wife which might chance to bring relief to
my unhappy state of mind. How bitterly did I
now regret that the matter of the robbery had
not been more closely investigated at the time
that it occurred! Vain regrets at the end of
five weary years!

One evening I went to visit Giles Humphrey.
My lady was at the Opera, the servant told me.
Going up-stairs I found my uncle, as usual, alone,
but chuckling in ecstasies of ferocious delight.
He dangled a bunch of keys before my eyes.

"Hist, nephew!" he said, "I have got her
keys! If she is cunning, I am cunning. If she
has robbed me, I will rob her. Ha, ha, ha! Lend
me your arm till I hobble to yonder closet of
hers and see what my lady keeps in her casket."

I tried to prevent him, but I might as well
have tried to hold fire in my hands. He would
have crawled across the room on all fours if I
had not assisted him. He found the casket,
fitted with a key, and opened it. The first thing
that met my eyes was a bracelet that I knew too
well.

"This," said I, taking it up, " is the
memorable bracelet that was found on the door-step?"

He took it from me, looking stupidly puzzled.

"No," said he, " she had on that bracelet
tonight. How is this?"

"Stop!" cried I; " did you not tell me that a
fellow of that bracelet had been stolen; also a
chain of pearls?" I went on diving further into
the recesses of the casket, and drawing out each
trinket as I named it. " Also a diamond
necklace! Giles Humphrey, how did these come
into your wife's possession?"

His jaw dropped, and he stared blankly before
him

"By Heavens you are right!" he mumbled.
"Little O'Shaughnessy was wronged. My lady
has been the traitor all through!"

I cannot tell you what I thought, nor describe