he crossed the room and approached the pair of gossipers.

"I think the doctor was there when that book you're speaking
of was found," he remarked. "So I understood from
Mitchington."

"Yes, I was there," said Bryce, who was not unwilling to join
in the talk. He turned to Campany. "What makes you think
there's a clue--in that?" he asked.

"Why this," answered the librarian. "Here's a man in
possession of an old history of Barthorpe. Barthorpe is a
small market-town in the Midlands--Leicestershire, I believe,
of no particular importance that I know of, but doubtless with
a story of its own. Why should any one but a Barthorpe man,
past or present, be interested in that story so far as to
carry an old account of it with him? Therefore, I conclude
this stranger was a Barthorpe man. And it's at Barthorpe that
I should make inquiries about him."

Simpson Harker made no remark, and Bryce remembered what Mr.
Dellingham had said when the book was found.

"Oh, I don't know!" he replied carelessly. "I don't see that
that follows. I saw the book--a curious old binding and queer
old copper-plates. The man may have picked it up for that
reason--I've bought old books myself for less."

"All the same," retorted Campany, "I should make inquiry at
Barthorpe. You've got to go on probabilities. The