to a fight; and, indeed, the hard life that I had led told very much upon me, and made me an old man before my time. And in these East Indies it was my sad chance to be wrecked, not on such a sweet delicious island as that cayo of which I spoke, and whose woods and streams I sometimes see in my dreams; but upon a low sandy bar beneath a torrid sun, from which I and others were fetched off, when nigh to death, by a companion vessel that had been searching for its consort. And

coming home in a very weak state, there were two great shocks which happened to me, and which at that time I could hardly bear. For going to Godsons' bank in Lombard-street upon my route, I found with infinite dismay that the said bank had totally disappeared. The offices were turned into gay shops with a warehouse overhead. They had very little money of mine then; and, indeed, my purpose was not to draw money, but to pay it in. though I had no money there, to speak of, still there was my precious casket, which had been in their charge for so many years. And how the thing happened I never rightly knew. Whether it

But

was by bankruptcy or roguery that the bank had stopped, or whether, as I heard a rumour, the bank had transferred its business beyond seas, I knew not; for I was weak and ill, and had neither time nor temper for the business, until first I should come to my home. And, indeed, I was sick and tired of the sad history belonging to that casket, and was not without fears that it might, even yet, bring me into trouble. And when I came home to my house below Penpole Heights there was yet a greater shock and trouble for me. For your mother, my son, was gone, and you were left, a weak

wailing babe, in her place. She had died in giving you birth. My wife left a message that she hoped that I would not bring you up to a seafaring life. And, perhaps, in the tossing of my dreams, I had used strange words which had let her too much into the secrets of the past, from which a pure and quiet Woman would naturally

shrink.

'And now I am a poor decrepid man, and the sundial of my days is darkening fast. And I sometimes go to those hot wells at Clifton, not far from here, to see if they will restore me; and there I creep slowly beneath the huge cliffs where the sunshine strikes warm from the rock. I am not without a hope that I may yet meet your mother, my good Agnes and good angel. For albeit I am the worst of sinners next to John Morgan-and, indeed, I may be far worse than he, for he never had good mother or good wife that I heard of, such as have been mine— yet I know that there are no sins which may not be forgiven through the Redeemer, to whom I acted so badly in my best days, when I was well and strong, and who has treated me so kindly in my worst, when I am weak and ailing and dying. But I leave these lines for you, my boy, who will not be able to read them until I am dead and gone, that I may give effect to your mother's thoughts respecting you, and that you may know and avoid the hardships and temptations of a seafaring life.

'HENRY DELorme.'

Thus ended this remarkable and memorable letter, which I here insert for the sake of very curious circumstances which happened afterwards.

I remember so well the first Christmas-eve that I spent with the Delormes after the memorable

summer evening in which we first read the pirate's manuscript. It was a pleasant Christmas-eve, but Flora looked sad, and Jack found out that things were not going very well with the Delormes: the short supplies of money were shorter even than had been expected, and that there was much difficulty in meeting those bills which Christmas always brings with it. So Jack and I each contrived a hamper, he of fish and I of fowl and game, which we sent them with the compliments of the season, and we had in return been duly invited to partake thereof on the Christmas-eve. By this time I was following very fast on the precedent set by Jack, and if I was not formally engaged to Fanny, was very much on the way towards it. Those dear genial old Delormes thought it the most natural thing in the world that young people should fall in love with each other and come together in good time, and had no idea in the world that their two lovely daughters were, in fact, disguised princesses, and were a great deal too good for the likes of me and Jack.

Somehow our talk that Christmas-eve went back to the manuscript of the old repentant pirate.

"How I should like some of the old rascal's diamonds to put in my hair to-night!' said my Fanny.

My mouth quite watered when he talked about the silks,' exclaimed Flora. They have gone into dust anyhow.'

And only to think,' said Jack philosophically, 'of that little beggar of a child to whom he left the letter being the great-great-greatgrandfather of you young ladies.'

'And the letter itself being read about once in a hundred years,' said Flora. 'Papa dear, wouldn't you like to give your children a lot of diamonds to wear in the evenings at their little parties?'

'Still if I had them,' said Delorme pére, you gentlemen should not smoke them away, nor you girls wear them in your hair. I would buy an estate with them. I knew a diamond necklace sold across a jeweller's counter for twenty-five thousand pounds.'

At this moment a sudden flash of inspiration darted through my mind.

Suppose that casket of diamonds is still in existence, all fastened up and sealed, and waiting for the representative of the proper owner to claim it.'

'O, that would be too lovely! said Fanny. You don't suppose that a lot of diamonds would go begging about the world for two or three centuries.'

'Besides,' said Jack, 'the diamonds have been turned into money hundreds of years ago, and the money has been all spent. And of course the Statute of Limitations would bar all claim.'

'Besides,' said Flora, I have got hold of the idea that the famous letter may be no real letter at all. It may be somebody indulging in an attempt at British

fiction.'

'I never heard of any one impugning the authenticity of the letter,' said Mr. Delorme. The letter's right enough.'

Hitherto I had only known of the letter through the copy. I now asked for and obtained a sight of the original. The obscure characters, so quaintly formed, left no doubt of the comparative antiquity.

That night I fell into a train of thought upon the subject. The letter was doubtless genuine. The

contents were precisely as true, though written two centuries ago, as if written only forty-eight hours ago. At that time there was in existence a casket containing diamonds belonging to Henry Delorme. At the present time was there any chance of the diamonds being in existence, or any chance of the Delormes ever getting that casket into their possession? Evidently the original Delorme had thought that his banking house had failed. But he had also suggested another and more favourable explanation, i.e. that the bank had only shifted its quarters. Then I had a wonderful idea of the permanence of English institutions. A great Frenchman once made a journey to England for the simple purpose of ascertaining whether the bread and beer bequeathed to travellers past St. Cross, near Winchester, five hundred years ago, was still given away in accordance with the ancient bequest. Such is the English genius for leaving things alone, that if the casket had never been asked for it might have slumbered undisturbed for any conceivable time. Of course, however, there were two considerations which militated strongly against any illusory hopes. There was the fact that Godsons' bank had disappeared. Then again, if it had disappeared only to revive in another direction, of course the cellars would have been systematically overhauled, and a treasure of this sort would, in the course of time, come into the legitimate possession of the bank. Was it possible, by any rare concatenation of such circumstances, such as might happen, in fact, though they might be too daring for fiction,that these diamonds might be yet in existence, and that my darling Fanny might have her share of them, to turn into cash or to wear in her hair as she liked best?

I turned the idea over in what, to use Lord Westbury's formula, 'I was pleased to call my mind.' It was so seldom that I got an idea, that I naturally wished to make the most of it. My idée fixe-a mild species of monomania -was that, though there were ten thousand chances against it, there was yet the chance that something might be heard about the casket of diamonds. At all events I should find it an interesting amusement to look into matters.

I told Jack Burnett to go to the British Museum and look matters up, or employ somebody to look matters up. The fate of Godsons' banking firm was hardly a matter that would leave no trace behind. I have no doubt that Jack Burnett got somebody sharper than himself to help him, and I knew that he must have got him cheap. Anyhow he obtained the information that Godsons' firm did, in the reign of James II., when Popery and arbitrary power for the moment seem triumphant, and when some of its best customers were suspected of complicity with Monmouth's rebellion, betake itself to the Batavian Republic in which it had a large connection, and resumed or set up business in Rotterdam. Here, then, and without any difficulty to speak of, was the very clue that I wanted.

Now, up to that date, I had never been abroad at all. It is, perhaps, a humiliating confession to make; but I was a very young man then a young bear with all my troubles before me-and I have since abundantly retrieved myself in this particular. I was to go abroad for the first time this summer for a short holiday, and I was determined that I would see Holland and the Rhine. Consequently any inquiries at Rotterdam would be all in the day's work, so to speak. In some points of view I

would rather have spent my holiday in London, near Fanny; but then I told myself that I was going abroad in Fanny's own interests.

There is something very interesting in going abroad for the first time. You may make hundreds of journeys afterwards, but there is nothing like that first journey. Rotterdam, with its watery ways, is only inferior to Venice itself in the poetry of its reminiscences. The low shore, with its windmills and vast meadow-reaches, was intensely interesting to me. The ranges of tall houses by the shadowed canals, the quaint streets, the old churches, the wharfs, formed a sight photographed for ever on the mental retina. There was the statue of the great Erasmus holding an iron book; and my companion told me that the legend was that once a year-at the time of Christmas or the New Year-he turned over a page of the iron book; and that when the last page was turned over, the end of the world would come. In the steamer I had formed the acquaintance of a young Dutchman-there was plenty of time for it-who spoke English excellently well; and, what was more to my purpose, he knew Rotterdam thoroughly well, and through his father, an exalted functionary of some sort or other, he could make any inquiry for me at the bankers'. I may mention that, through the kindness of this gentleman, I had no difficulty in discovering that the Messrs. Godson had occupied a bank now in the possession of Mynheer Bondet. The present Bondet was most obliging. He told me that he had received the greatest kindness and hospitality in England, and that he had made a vow to himself that he would show kindness and hospitality to all the English people whom he might ever meet. He took me to his house, gave me a

good dinner, showed me the sights, and finally entered with some kindness and a good deal of internal amusement into what he called my case. I mentioned the existence of a small box or casket; but I thought it best not to enter upon the nature of the precious contents. I was quite as fantastic as the criminal about to be executed proved to be when he was afraid that his breakfast might disagree with him, or that he might catch cold on his way to the scaffold. Such a fantastic unreality was there in the strict reticence which I imposed on myself respecting the contents of the casket.

I asked questions about the character of the defunct house of the Godson bankers with as much anxiety as if I were about to intrust my little all into their keeping. I asked whether this valuable casket might not easily have disappeared in the process of their flitting between London and Rotterdam.

But of this he would not hear a word. They were the most careful and honourable bankers that had ever existed. Their name was still a tradition in Rotterdam.

'Of course,' said M. Bondet, 'bankers are like other people, and want to get all they can for themselves. Unclaimed property in their hands will eventually come to them, and this is a kind of loot that does not often happen to them, although of course it has very profitably happened to them on various occasions. But they are not anxious for any such loot, and no deposit would be parted with so long as there was the faintest chance in the world of its being claimed. The great Thelusson banking-house was a remarkable case. They held a great deal of property be longing to the French noblesse ; but a good many of them had their heads taken off, and were unable