Bill nodded absently. This man's thoughts were afar--revolving this situation he had named “licker.” “Look at the description,” he said. “Look at the cat. It knows its name, doesn't it? I've seen a life-size painting of Abishag. It's a cert.” George dropped upon the sofa; his thoughts, too, rushed afar. Tremendous possibilities danced a wild jig in his Mary's pretty head; trembled her voice. “Oh, Mr. Wyvern!” she appealed, “what does it mean? What does it mean--for us?” “It's a licker,” Bill told her. “It's a fair licker.” Mary dropped by her George's side; to his her thoughts rushed. Presently Bill threw away his cigarette; faced George. He said slowly: “Mrs. Major must have stolen this cat, George. But how did she get it? She's been at Herons' Holt the last week.” Mary gave a little jump. “Oh, Mr. Wyvern, she went up to town on Monday till Tuesday.” Bill struck a hand upon the table. “That fixes it. By gum, that fixes it! I tell you what it is, George. I tell you what it is. I believe--yes, I believe she'd seen this cat before, knew it was like the Rose, and meant to have palmed it off on old Marrapit herself so as to get him to take her back. Margaret told me all about her getting the sack. I bet my life that's it. By gum, _what_ a splash for the _Daily!_” And upon this fine thought the young man stood with sparkling eyes. George timidly touched the castles he had been building: “Bill, where do I--where do Mary and I come in?” Bill clapped his hands together. “Why, my good old buck, don't you see?-don't you realise?-you get this L500. Just do you, eh?” _“Runnygate!”_ George burst out with a violent jerk; clasped his Mary in an immense hug. _“Runnygate!”_ came thickly from his Mary, face squashed against this splendid fellow. When they unlocked my blushing Mary suddenly paled: “Oh, but you, Mr. Wyvern--you found it really.” “Not much,” Bill declared. “Not likely. You found it. I couldn't have the reward, anyway. I'm one of the staff.” He repeated the fine words: “One of the _staff_.” She made to thank him. “Besides,” he interrupted her, “I'll make a lot out of it. I'm doing awfully well. The chief was awfully pleased with the way I ran that Rose of Sharon job. Of course this is twice as big a splash, because Vivian Howard's mixed up in it. Look what a boost it is for our new serial--look what a tremendous ad. it is for the paper! Directly Howard came to us the editor dropped the Rose like a hot coal; plumped for this and put me in charge. Now I've pulled it off, just think how bucked up he'll be! It's a licker, George--a licker all round.” “Bill,” George said, “I can't speak about it. My head's whirling. I believe it's a dream.” Indeed this George had rushed through so much in the past hours, was now suddenly come upon so much, that the excitement, as he attempted realisation, was of stunning effect. He sat white, head in hands.