book is a very valuable one--you see," he went on, with a careless wave of
his hand towards his book-shelves. "I'm something of a collector of rare
books. I bought this particular book yesterday afternoon, at a well-known
dealer's in High Holborn. Soon after buying it, I got into a Cricklewood
omnibus, which I left at Chapel Street--at the corner of Praed Street, as
a matter of fact: I wished to make a call at the Great Western Hotel. It
was not till I made that call that I found I'd left the book in the 'bus--
I was thinking hard about a business matter--I'd placed the book in a
corner behind me--and, of course, I'd forgotten it, valuable though it is.
And so, later on, after telephoning to the omnibus people, who'd heard
nothing, I sent that advertisement round to all the morning papers. I'm
very glad to hear of it--and I shall be pleased to reward you," he
concluded, turning to Melky. "Handsomely!--as I promised."

But Melky made no sign of gratitude or pleasure. He was eyeing the rich
man before him in inquisitive fashion.

"Mister!" he said suddenly. "I'd like to ask you a question."

Levendale frowned a little.

"Well?" he asked brusquely. "What is it?"

"This here," replied Melky. "Was that there book wrapped up? Was it brown-
papered, now, when you left it?"

It seemed to Lauriston that Levendale was somewhat taken aback. But if he
was, it was only for a second: his answer, then, came promptly enough.

"No, it was not," he said. "I carried it away from the shop where I bought