for a moment. But whatever you do, don't tell him that I told you
so."

I laid my hand on my heart, and made a solemn asseveration that I
would not divulge her secret. I need not, however, have troubled
myself much on that head, for as I walked up stairs, keeping my eye
upon the precious trunk, Mr. Greene addressed me.

"You are an Englishman, Mr. Robinson," said he. I acknowledged that I
was.

"I am another. My wife, however, is Irish. My daughter,--by a former
marriage,--is English also. You see that box there."

"Oh, yes," said I, "I see it." I began to be so fascinated by the box
that I could not keep my eyes off it.

"I don't know whether or no it is prudent, but I keep all my money
there; my money for travelling, I mean."

"If I were you, then," I answered, "I would not say anything about it
to any one."

"Oh, no, of course not," said he; "I should not think of mentioning
it. But those brigands in Italy always take away what you have about
your person, but they don't meddle with the heavy luggage."

"Bills of exchange, or circular notes," I suggested.

"Ah, yes; and if you can't identify yourself, or happen to have a