there is in it,--not quite yet, however, of knowing all that came of it.
It was not the mirror trick, of course, which Mrs. Felix Lorraine and
other dangerous historical personages have so long made use of. It was
nothing but this: Mr. Byles Gridley wore a pair of formidable spectacles
with large round glasses. He had often noticed the reflection of objects
behind him when they caught their images at certain angles, and had got
the habit of very often looking at the reflecting surface of one or the
other of the glasses, when he seemed to be looking through them. It put
a singular power into his possession, which might possibly hereafter lead
to something more significant than the mystification of the Widow
Hopkins.

A short time before Myrtle Hazard's disappearance, Mr. Byles Gridley had
occasion to call again at the office of Penhallow and Bradshaw on some
small matter of business of his own. There were papers to look over, and
he put on his great round-glassed spectacles. He and Mr. Penhallow sat
down at the table, and Mr. Bradshaw was at a desk behind them. After
sitting for a while, Mr. Penhallow seemed to remember something he had
meant to attend to, for he said all at once: "Excuse me, Mr. Gridley.
Mr. Bradshaw, if you are not busy, I wish you would look over this bundle
of papers. They look like old receipted bills and memoranda of no
particular use; but they came from the garret of the Withers place, and
might possibly have something that would be of value. Look them over,
will you, and see whether there is anything there worth saving."

The young man took the papers, and Mr. Penhallow sat down again at the
table with Mr. Byles Gridley.

This last-named gentleman felt just then a strong impulse to observe the
operations of Murray Bradshaw. He could not have given any very good