Having locked the door
and placed the key in his pocket, he paced twice or thrice up and
down the floor, seemingly in deep contemplation, and heaved a sigh.
"Graspum!" he ejaculated, suddenly turning towards that terrified
gentleman; "in that same iron chest have you another box, the same
containing papers which are to me of more value than all your
invoices of souls. Go! bring it hither!" Tremblingly did the
man-seller obey the command, drew from the chest an antiquated box,
and placed it hesitatingly upon the table. "I will get the key, if
you will kindly permit me," he said, bowing, as the sweat fell from
his chin upon the carpet. The stranger says it wants no key; he
breaks it open with his hands. "You have long stored it with goodly
papers; let us see of what they are made," said he. Here Graspum
commenced drawing forth package after package of papers, the
inscriptions on which were eagerly observed by the stranger's keen
eye. At length there came out a package of letters, superscribed in
the stranger's own hand, and directed to Hugh Marston. "How came you
by these?" enquired the stranger, grasping them quickly: "Ah,
Graspum, I have heard all! Never mind,--continue!" he resumed.
Presently there came forth a package addressed to "Franconia
M'Carstrow," some of which the stranger recognised as superscribed
by his mother, others by Clotilda, for she could write when a slave.
Graspum would put this last aside; but in an angry tone did the
stranger demand it, as his passion had well nigh got the better of
his resolution.
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