"Certainly, sir," I answered.

"It has been a troublesome office," he
continued, almost pettishly. "We sent out Mr.
Forbes only six months ago, on account of his
health, which required a warmer climate, and
now his medical man reports that his life is not
worth three weeks purchase."

Upon Mr. Huntingdon's face there rested an
expression of profound anxiety; and as the
secretary paused he addressed himself to me.

Mr. Wilcox," he said, "I have been soliciting,
as a personal favour, that you should be
sent out to take charge of the packet agency, in
order that my daughter may have some one at
hand to befriend her, and manage her business
affairs for her. You are not personally acquainted
with her, but I know I can trust her with you."

"You may, Mr. Huntingdon," I said, warmly.
"I will do anything I can to aid Mrs. Forbes.
When do you wish me to start?"

"How soon can you be ready?" was the
rejoinder.

"To-morrow morning."

I was not married then, and I anticipated no
delay in setting off. Nor was there any. I travelled
with the overland mail through France to
Marseilles, embarked in a vessel for Alexandria,
and in a few days from the time I first heard
of my destination set foot in the office there.
All tlie postal arrangements had fallen into
considerable irregularity and confusion; for, as
I was informed immediately on my arrival,
Mr. Forbes had been in a dying condition for
the last week, and of course the absence of a
master had borne the usual results. I took
formal possession of the office, and then, conducted
by one of the clerks, I proceeded to
the dwelling of the unfortunate postmaster and
his no less unfortunate wife. It would be out
of place in this narrative to indulge in any
traveller's tales about the strange place where I
was so unexpectedly located. Suffice it to say,
that the darkened sultry room into which I was
shown, on inquiring for Mrs. Forbes, was bare
of furniture, and destitute of all those little
tokens of refinement and taste which make our
English parlours so pleasant to the eye. There
was, however, a piano in one of the dark corners
of the room, open, and with a sheet of music on
it. While I waited for Mrs. Forbes's appearance,
I strolled idly up to the piano to see what
music it might be. The next moment my eye
fell upon an antique red morocco workbox
standing on the top of the piano a workbox
evidently, for the lid was not closely shut, and
a few threads of silk and cotton were hanging
out of it. In a kind of dream—-f or it was difficult
to believe that the occurrence was a
fact—- I carried the box to the darkened window,
and there, plain in my sight, was the device
scratched upon the leather: the revolutionary
symbol of a heart with a dagger through it. I
had found the Premier's despatch-box in the
parlour of the packet-agent of Alexandria!

I stood for some minutes with that dreamlike
feeling upon me, gazing at the box in the
dim obscure light. It could not be real! My
fancy must be playing a trick upon me! But
the sound of a light step—- for, light as it was,
I heard it distinctly as it approached the room
—- broke my trance, and I hastened to replace
the box on the piano, and to stoop down
as if examining the music before the door opened.
I had not sent in my name to Mrs. Forbes, for
I did not suppose that she was acquainted with
it, nor could she see me distinctly, as I stood in
the gloom. But I could see her. She had the
slight slender figure, the childlike face, and the
fair hair of Miss Anne Clifton. She came quickly
across the room, holding out both her hands in
a childish appealing manner.

"O!" she wailed, in a tone that went
straight to my heart, " he is dead! He has just
died'!"

It was no time then to speak about the red
morocco workbox. This little childish creature,
who did not look a day older than when I had
last seen her in my travelling post-office, was a
widow in a strange land, far away from any
friend save myself. I had brought her a letter
from her father. The first duties that devolved
upon me were those of her husband's interment,
which had to take place immediately. Three
or four weeks elapsed before I could, with any
humanity, enter upon the investigation of her
mysterious complicity in the daring theft
practised on the government and the post-
office.

I did not see the despatch-box again. In the
midst of her new and vehement grief, Mrs.
Forbes had the precaution to remove it before
I was ushered again into the room where I had
discovered it. I was at some trouble to hit upon
any plan by which to gain a second sight of it;
but I was resolved that Mrs. Forbes should not
leave Alexandria without giving me a full
explanation. We were waiting for remittances
and instructions from England, and in the mean
time the violence of her grief abated, and she
recovered a good share of her old buoyancy
and loveliness, which had so delighted me
on my first acquaintance with her. As her
demands upon my sympathy weakened, my
curiosity grew stronger, and at last mastered
me. I carried with me a netted purse which
required mending, and I asked her to catch up
the broken meshes while I waited for it.

"I will tell your maid to bring your work-
box," I said, going to the door and calling the
servant. " Your mistress has a red morocco
workbox," I said to her, as she answered my
summons.

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"Where is it?"

"In her bedroom," she said.

"Mrs. Forbes wishes it brought here." I
turned back into the room. Mrs. Forbes had
gone deadly pale, but her eyes looked sullen,
and her teeth were clenched under her lips
with an expression of stubbornness. The maid
brought the workbox. I walked, with it in
my hands, up to the sofa where she was seated.

"You remember this mark?" I asked; " I
think neither of us can ever forget it."