He heard the door of the staircase creak on its hinges--the clock gave its warning to strike eleven--the door of his study opened; Morrel did not turn round--he expected these words of Cocles, "The agent of Thomson & French." He placed the muzzle of the pistol between his teeth.

Suddenly he heard a cry--it was his daughter's voice.

He turned and saw Julie.

The pistol fell from his hands.

"My father!" cried the young girl, out of breath, and half dead with joy--"saved, you are saved!" And she threw herself into his arms, holding in her extended hand a red, netted silk purse.
"Saved, my child!" said Morrel; "what do you mean ?" "Yes, saved--saved! See, see!" said the young girl.
Morrel took the purse, and started as he did so, for a vague remembrance reminded him that it once belonged to himself.