Elated by these revelations I cautiously
applied the same ingenious instrument to my
friend's waistcoat; it penetrated at least
three inches, up to the fox's head which
surmounted it, without meeting with any flesh
and blood; the sleeper never so much as
winked an eye. I then took the liberty of
unfastening the first and second buttons
about his ample chest, whereupon I came
upon fine cambric; I turned back case after
case, and then pressed forth an end of
Valenciennes lace. I took hold of this very
delicately and gave it a gentle pull—one yard!
two yards! ten yards! twenty yards of such
a trimming—as I have only seen in books
upon the fashions—rewarded my dexterity.
Throughout this operation the stout party,
sleeping like a child, reminded me of the
spider who, out of his own interior, supplies
such charming gossamer work. Then, having
pocketed the Valenciennes, replaced the
cambric, and fastened the buttons, I woke my
still stout but somewhat reduced acquaintance,
and observed, "I beg your pardon, but
your right calf has slipped down from the
usual place, Mr. Settler."

"It is a false one," answered he with frankness;
"It is, in fact, French kid gloves. Mrs.
Settler compels me to do it, although I abominate
the practice. A man in my dangerous
state of health should think of something
else than defrauding the revenue."

"Don't you feel somewhat relieved,
though?" inquired I, producing the
Valenciennes.

"Sir," said he, in, some confusion, and
twitching at his waistcoat, "I am sure that I
am in the hands of a man of honour."

"Perhaps," said I, blushing a very little;
"but I have the sternest possible sense of
duty."

"Custom House duty?" inquired he, good-
naturedly; then, with his old pathos he
added,

"You have a wife, a loving wife yourself,
sir."

"I have," said I; and I confess I was a good
deal moved.

"How well she'd look in that old
Valenciennes!" urged Mr. Settler, and that with
an air of such sincere admiration, that I
really could not find it in my heart to give
the poor fellow up. I never saw him again
from that day to this, and there is no reason
to suppose that after that clemency of mine
he did not give up his contraband habits, and
became an honest man.

It was in a collar and sleeves trimmed
with that very Valenciennes that my wife
went up with me to town for the Handel
Festival; we were a large party in the
carriage, and enjoyed the journey very much.
Amongst others was a strange young gentleman,
very well-informed and agreeable, who
kept us in peals of laughter with his lively
sallies. Mrs. X had seen the address upon
his portmanteau, and whispered to us that
he was a viscount, and perhaps we did not
appreciate them the less upon that account;
he had all that abandon and keen animal
spirits which distinguish the young English
aristocracy, and make them the pleasantest
fellows in the world to travel with, and he
had also a diamond ring which he was kind
enough to let us examine, of very great
brilliancy and value; such a hand too, delicate,
graceful, thin, and such an exquisite curling
ear; in short, as my wife, judging from these
symptoms, observed, with an irrepressible
enthusiasm, "a youthful Cavendish, all over."

When we arrived at London Bridge,
he bade adieu to us in the most affable
manner, and drove away in a simple Hansom,
with all the air of a man accustomed to keep
his carriage. On our road to Sydenham we
were all loud in his praises, when suddenly
my wife threw up her hands, and cried out
that her purse was gone, with half her
quarter's allowance in it; there must have
been a hole in her pocket, or one of the railway
porters had taken it, or she had never
brought it with her at all; we would believe
anything in fact, rather than suffer the
breath of suspicion to sully that mirror of
nobility the viscount. Judge, then, our
surprise when at the bottom of this pocket was
discovered the identical ring, which had
evidently slipped off those aristocratic fingers
while they were appropriating the purse.
Upon our return to town, I took the trinket
to a jeweller's, fully expecting to find that
the precious stone was made of glass, but to
my astonishment and pleasure it turned out
to be a real diamond, and that of a value
very considerably greater than the stolen
money. We advertised it for a few days in
the newspapers, but, as we expected, without
its being inquired after by its late proprietor;
so, besides the Valenciennes trimming for
her collar and sleeves, my wife has a handsome
diamond ring for her middle finger,
both presented to her, indirectly, by two of
my fellow passengers.

Now ready, price Five Shillings and Sixpence, neatly
bound in cloth,
THE FIFTEENTH VOLUME
of
HOUSEHOLD WORDS,
Containing the Numbers issued between the Third of
January and the Twenty-seventh of June of the present
year.

Just published, in Two Volumes, post Svo, price One
Guinea,
THE DEAD SECRET.
BY WILKIE COLLINS.
Bradbury and Evans, Whitefriars.