quietly removing a weapon whose bright face seemed to invite me as a long
known and long tried friend.

This was not, however, done in so noiseless a manner, but what the voice
again addressed me, in a somewhat louder key, by the appellation of
"Brimstone Bess," asking, with sundry oaths, "What was the matter?" and
requesting something to drink. I need scarcely say that, as before, I
made no reply, but crept out of the room as gently as possible, blessing
my good fortune for having thrown into my way a weapon with the use of
which, above all others, I was best acquainted. Scarcely had I regained
the passage, before Jonson re-appeared with the keys; I showed him my
treasure (for indeed it was of no size to conceal).

"Are you mad, Sir?" said he, "or do you think that the best way to avoid
suspicion, is to walk about with a drawn sword in your hand? I would not
have Bess see you for the best diamond I ever borrowed." With these words
Job took the sword from my reluctant hand.

"Where did you get it?" said he.

I explained in a whisper, and Job, re-opening the door I had so
unceremoniously entered, laid the weapon softly on a chair that stood
within reach. The sick man, whose senses were of course rendered doubly
acute by illness, once more demanded in a fretful tone, who was there?
And Job replied, in the flash language, that Bess had sent him up to look
for her keys, which she imagined she had left there. The invalid
rejoined, by a request to Jonson to reach him a draught, and we had to
undergo a farther delay, until his petition was complied with; we then
proceeded up the passage, till we came to another flight of steps, which
led to a door: Job opened it, and we entered a room of no common