they call it — and when it was opened Farmer
Merriwood saw it was from young Lord
Rostock, whose father had just died and left
him all the estates. Caroline, he said, was
provided for, and happy; but as he felt that
he owed some reparation to the father he
enclosed him a Bank of England note for a
thousand pounds."

"Bless me; what a generous noble gentleman,"
exclaimed the pawnbroker. " She
must have been a cunning gipsey — what a
fortunate man Farmer Merriwood was!"

"How he trembled as he held out the thin
piece of paper, his lips moving evidently
with curses on them, but no sound being
heard! ' Cousin Janet,' he said at last, ' come
with me upstairs; you shall witness what I
do.' We went up, and to my surprise he
went into what had been Caroline's bedroom.
' This is a thousand pound note,' he said,
'which that ruffian thinks will reconcile me to
shame. I won't touch it, and I won't let him
have it back —to employ it perhaps in tempting
some one else. If the girl he took away
from me is ever in want, you will know where
to find money for her support. It shall lie
beside all the other things that remind me of
her behaviour. No one shall touch it till I
die.' And so saying he pulled out the secret
drawer at the top, and laid the note lengthways
on its back, and shut it up with a bang,
and gave me the silver pin that touches the
spring. From that hour no one has ever
opened it, and there it lies, with the printed
face upwards, a bank-note for a thousand
pounds."

"And I sold it for thirty shillings!"
shrieked Mr. Benson, " to a miserable old
woman —a ruined man! I've lost a thousand
pounds. The young man was too much for
me. I hated him from the first -- but vengeance
will pursue him for his iniquity. Amen!"

"And why was the sale so hurried? " con-
tinued Cousin Janet. " I left Cecil Green six
years since, but I have kept the spring-opener
carefully -- carefully. I heard he was ill -- he
wrote to me that he did not expect to live
long, and that all was as he had left it in the
drawer. I couldn't get up from Yorkshire
for some days. In the meantime he died, and
was buried, and the furniture sold, and the
money lost. Go, give what sum you like,
but get me back that wardrobe, and we shall
divide the money."

"Equally? " exclaimed Mr. Benson, start-
ing up; " where is that silver pin? Give it
me -- it is not too late to make the attempt tonight."

"Oh yes, it is, though," said the woman.
I'll keep the key. What you have to do is to
recover the wardrobe; or, if you will tell me
the purchaser's address—- "

"No, no —I'll keep that to myself," replied
the pawnbroker with a cunning look. " We'll
open it in presence of each other."

"I will be here at nine to-morrow morning,"
said Cousin Janet. " We understand the
arrangement -- it's getting on for one o'clock—
good night." So saying she slipt along the
gangway, and got once more into the carriage.

"What a fool to think a drawer can't be
opened with a hatchet in the absence of a
silver pin! " said Benson. " Amen! Good
night."

The rain continued all the night through.
Mr. Benson heard it as he lay awake flooding
on roof and garret window. As soon as the
dawn began to force its way through the
watery air, he sprang up and put on his
clothes. Rapidly he pursued his way to
number two, Abbeyfield Lane, and standing
before the door felt in his pockets that the
rouleaux of golden sovereigns were safe- for
he fancied the sight of the yellow metal would
have more effect than a mere promise to pay,
or even a roll of notes. They were all right—
three, of a hundred pounds each. He knocked.
"Is Mr. Truman down stairs yet?" he asked
through the key-hole. There was no answer,
but in a short time he heard the rap of a
small hammer. He knocked louder —and the
rat, tat, tat of the hammer ceased. The door
was opened. The person who opened it was
Mrs. Truman's nephew.

"Hallo! " he said, " who expected to see
you at such an early hour?"

"Business, my dear sir. I find I made a
little mistake last night. I sent your dear
aunt the wrong article. I hope the old lady
is well."

"Yes, she's very well," said the nephew,
"a little tired with sitting up so late, but
delighted with the wardrobe, I assure you.
I was just trying to fit the drawers a little
closer. The top one seems loose."

"I find the want of it destroys the set,"
said Mr. Benson; " would you do me the
favour to give it back to me? I will replace
it with the best article in my shop."

"By no means," replied the youth. " I
haven't had time to rummage it over, yet. I
told you fortunes were sometimes found in
old family furniture."

There was a long pause; Mr. Benson was
forming his calculations. He recommenced
the conversation in a whisper, urged his plea
with all the eloquence in his power; and,
finally, was again seen proceeding through
the falling rain with the richly-endowed wardrobe
on his back. Hurriedly trotting up the
High Street he dashed into his shop, set his
burden on the ground, tore the top drawer
out upon the floor, and saw a small piece of
paper pasted on the back. Was it the thousand
pound note? He rubbed his eyes — he
looked closer — and he read the three following
words: — " Quits. George Evans."

"Not a bad stock in trade," said the same
young gentleman whom we encountered at
the beginning of this story, Aunt Truman
and Cousin Janet all at once, as he (for
George Evans, the young actor, had played
all three parts) replaced certain articles of