Davy was much like his father, with Mr. Benjy’s small features and friendly, gentle eyes. But Davy was taller and spoke with a firmness and initiative that Mr. Benjy lacked. A good-looking boy, Barry thought, and one likely to make more of a success in life than his father had. Having smilingly shaken hands, Davy took the chair that Peaches offered and looked inquiringly from one to another. “Davy,” began Peaches, “I want to ask a couple of questions, and I don’t want you to think I’m cheeky. I’ve got a reason for them.” “All right,” said Davy, quietly. “What sort of bond was it that was lost last winter at Watkins and Boyle’s?” “N. C. Light and Power,” answered Davy. “One thousand dollars, six per cent, nineteen-forty-three, coupons attached.” Peaches grinned and Barry took a long breath. Davy watched Peaches unwaveringly. “Ever see that desk before?” asked Peaches, nodding. Davy looked at the article, frowned slightly, and hesitated. “I think so, but it wasn’t in this room last year, was it?” “No,” said Peaches. “Seems to me I remember it,” puzzled Davy, “but I think it was somewhere else. Why?” “Did they have anything like it where you worked? At the factory, I mean.” “By gum! Why, that’s―― Of course it isn’t, but it’s a ringer for the desk Mr. Watkins had in the outer office!” “Right! One more question, Davy. Ever see that before?” He pointed to the oblong fold of paper lying conspicuously on the blue blotter. Davy arose, reached for it, and drew back. His face looked almost as white as the parchment. [Illustration: “EVER SEE THAT BEFORE?”] “Jones, if this is a joke it’s――it’s a rotten one,” he said hoarsely. “Have a look,” answered Peaches, cheerfully. “It won’t bite you.” Davy raised the bond, turned it over, and stood staring at it a long moment. Then he laughed uncertainly, laid the document down again, and walked to the window. After a little moment he asked, still looking out, “Where did you get it, Peaches?” “Barry found it in that desk. He bought the desk from a second-hand man in the village. Is it the one?” “Yes.” Davy turned and came back. He laid a finger on the upper left corner of the bond. “There’s Mr. Boyle’s mark. He examined the bond and wrote his initials in pencil in the corner, as he always did.” Barry and Peaches leaned over and looked. The letters “T. J. B.” were dimly discernible. They had been written with a hard pencil, evidently, and neither Barry nor Peaches had noticed them before. “I don’t understand, though,” Davy continued, frowning, “how it got there. I put it in the safe!” “Are you certain?” asked Peaches. “This was found by Toby one night when he had the drawers out, looking for a moth that got away from him. He says it was lodged under a splinter against the top there. You wouldn’t have put it there, would you?” “Wait a minute.” Davy was staring hard at the old carpet. “Let me think, fellows.” There was a moment of silence. Then Davy’s head came up sharply and he said with a rush: