he hardly seemed paying attention to what was going on, and he did
not speak as cheerfully as usual. I noticed a sort of change in
his voice directly he began. I hope nothing wrong has occurred, we
were getting on so jollily."

When afternoon school began Mr. Porson placed on the desk before
him a packet done up in brown paper.

"Boys," he said, "I have got my book again."

An exclamation of surprise and pleasure burst from the boys. The
mystery had weighed heavily on the school, and a look of eager curiosity
came over every face to hear how the book had been recovered.

"It was found in a bookseller's shop in York," Mr. Porson went on.
"I myself had inquired at Leighton's here, but with little hope of
finding it, for no one who stole it would have disposed of it so
near home. I then wrote to several friends in the large towns, and
one of them, a clergyman at York, wrote to me two days ago to say
that just such a book as I had described was on sale in the window
of one of the booksellers there. It was a second hand copy, but
in excellent preservation. The flyleaf was missing. On going over
yesterday I found that it was my book, and was able to prove it by
several marginal notes in my handwriting.

"The bookseller said at once that it was sent him by a general
dealer at Marsden who was in the habit of picking up books at sales
in the neighborhood and sending them to him; he had given eighteen
shillings for it. This morning I have called upon the man, whose
name is White, accompanied by a constable. He admitted at once that