As, however, neither of the others was longer aware of his existence, he went off, muttering, and presently the slam of his door sounded a final indignant protest. Some three minutes later Barry and Peaches left the house hurriedly and made toward the village. Somewhere at the rear of Mr. Hannabury’s shop a bell tinkled, and the dealer in antiques answered the summons. “About that desk I bought from you a while ago, Mr. Hannabury――” began Barry. “Yes, a very good desk,” said the dealer, smiling. “A real bargain, too, young man.” “Yes. Well, sir, I was wondering where it came from. I mean, would you mind telling me where you got it?” Mr. Hannabury was silently suspicious a moment. Then he answered: “Well, now, it ain’t customary to tell where things come from, but I guess there ain’t any harm in telling you that. That desk belonged to Mr. Watkins, Mr. Benton Watkins, of Watkins and Boyle. He used it in his office for more than twenty years, he told me. You don’t find desks nowadays made like that one’s made. They used to――” “Funny he sold it,” interrupted Peaches, carelessly. “It’s such a nice desk you’d think he’d have wanted to keep it.” “Well,” said Mr. Hannabury, “they got a notion to put in a lot of this here oak furniture last year. Mr. Watkins said they were gettin’ fitted out all new and up to date. Guess there wasn’t room for the old desk. I bought that and a chair and one or two little things. Didn’t make much on ’em, either. Mr. Watkins drives a hard bargain. I’d like you to look at that swivel chair before you go. It rightly belongs with the desk and you’d ought to have it.” But Barry thought otherwise, and a moment later they were again in the street and striding briskly homeward. For a moment neither said a word. Then Peaches chuckled, and: “I guess that settles it, Barry,” he said. “Somehow or other that bond got into Watkins’s desk; probably he put it there himself. Being wedged in the way it was, it stayed right there when the desk was cleaned out.” He chuckled again. “Gosh! old Huckabuckle, or whatever his name is, missed a rare find, didn’t he?” “What are we going to do now?” asked Barry, excitedly. Peaches considered. “Well, there’s no one at home except Mrs. Lyle――and Davy. By Jove! that’s the idea! We’ll spill it to Davy! After all, he’s the most interested, I suppose. Maybe he will remember how the thing got into the desk.” Reaching the house, Barry went upstairs and Peaches sought Davy. Barry rescued the bond from where he had concealed it before departing for the village, and laid it, blank side up on the blotter. A moment later Peaches and David Lyle came in.