He had scarcely touched the dressing-case to recommence his attempt, when in came the identical Mr. Crosbie.
“Oh, you are there, my friend, are you!” said Arthur, seizing him; “you gave me a letter to Mr. Barnes, did you; I shall take the liberty of tweaking your nose for the compliment.”
Off came the nose, and off went Mr. Crosbie, and after him rushed Arthur; but being unacquainted with the intricacies of the place he lost sight of him, and on opening a door what was his surprise to find himself in a large parlor, surrounded by a number of persons, and Mr. Herman in the midst of them, laughing merrily.
“Walk in, walk in, Mr. Hazerelle,” said Mr. Herman; “what, you found out that old Crosbie had a paper nose, were you not ashamed to expose the poor fellow?”
But Arthur had no ear nor eye for him—in the centre of the group stood Grace Gordon, holding in her hand the little steel-box, which a servant had that moment put there. By her side was Abram Snow, looking just as quiet and grave as when in the counting-house.
After shaking hands, Arthur turned again to Grace Gordon, for she seemed to be the most sane among them.
“Where are Barker and Growler?” said she, laughing. “Godfried Darg, call your dogs.”
Mr. Herman whistled, and both dogs came racing into the room.
“Now, Arthur,” said Mr. Herman, “here are Barker and Growler, set down the steel-box and let them open the case.”
“I have no desire to see the face of any other lady than this one,” said Arthur, approaching Miss Gordon and taking her hand. “There is some mystery here which I cannot fathom, but with her I am safe; whatever may be the plans and manœuvres of others, here there is no guile.”