"But all actions can't be considered," was the crisp reply. Again an edge of sharpness had crept into the lad's voice. "Well, well. Maybe no harm's done," the clockmaker hastened to say soothingly. "No doubt the police chase about on a hundred false clews a day. Their information can't always be right." "You feel like a fool, though, if you give them the wrong clew." "Yes, you do." The promptness of the concession was anything but comforting. Obviously McPhearson felt that in the present instance, at least, the tip offered had been both valueless and absurd. A strained silence fell between them. "I suppose we may as well hail another bus and get back to the store," the clock repairer at length suggested. "There's no good hanging round here." Although he did not actually say in so many words that they had already wasted two fares, Christopher, well aware of his Scotch thrift, felt his manner implied it. They did not say much during the ride down town. McPhearson was a bit ruffled and annoyed, and Christopher crestfallen and mortified. He was thinking, too, that he would have to confess to his father what he had so impulsively done, and receive from him more jeers and ridicule linked with probable admonitions to greater deliberation and caution in future. He hated to be preached at. Therefore he was entirely unprepared for the ovation that greeted his return to the shop. Hollings was near the door when he went in and had evidently been waiting for him. "Birdie is securely in his cage!" announced he, dropping his voice so that the thrilling tidings might not be overheard by customers close at hand. "What?" gasped Christopher. "Yes, he's bagged for fair! Your father is delighted. They're all upstairs waiting for you--Corrigan, Davis, and all. We're to go down to headquarters and identify the chap." "Then it really _was_ Stuart!" "Sure thing!" Hollings was actually trembling with joy. "Oh, I hope they'll find those diamonds on him! At least, they'll probably be able to make him tell where they are. If we can only get that ring back, I shall die happy." "So you were right after all, Christopher," McPhearson put in. "Apparently!" The cry, _"I told you so!"_ rose like a wave to the lad's lips and then as speedily receded. Why should he feel triumphant? Mistakes are always possible, and he might have been mistaken. Fortunately this time he had not been, that was all. "I'm glad!" the clockmaker declared. "So am I!" replied the boy modestly. No further comment was made except as they went up in the elevator, the old man added: "It's never amiss to have your eyes about you, son. The majority of folks might as well have two glass beads in their heads, so little do they really observe of what they see. To have your eyes open and your mouth shut isn't a bad notion."