"Wouldn’t it be as well to search him?" suggested Mr. Farrant. "Of course he may have got rid of it; but, on the other hand, it may be in his pockets—that is," he added blandly, "assuming he is guilty of the theft." "That seems to be a very good idea," said the stationer.—"I suppose, Hartland, you have no objection to turning out your pockets? Of course if you are innocent there can’t be any objection." "No, sir," answered Jim eagerly. "You can search me as much as you like. Shall I take my coat off?" "Yes," said his master, "do." They found nothing beyond a handkerchief and a few odds and ends such as every schoolboy loves to carry; and a search of the trousers pockets only revealed a knife, a piece of tarred string, a wire puzzle, and a halfpenny, which might or might not have been taken from the till. "Have you anything in your waistcoat pockets?" asked Mr. Broad. "No," answered Jim promptly; "there’s nothing—" He stopped suddenly, and his face turned very red. "Well?" observed his master, and the boy felt how stern the voice had become. "I forgot," he said; "there’s a sixpenny piece, but it is my own." Mr. Farrant smiled slightly, as the stationer, producing the coin, laid it on the counter. "I notice that it is dated 1861," remarked he, "but that may be only a coincidence." Then he turned the coin over, and pointing to a spot at the back of the Queen’s head, added sorrowfully, "This, however, is hardly a coincidence." Jim’s knees knocked together as he saw quite plainly the figure of a circle with a starred centre, similar to the one in the notebook. There could be no doubt that the coin was one of those which his master had marked. "That settles it," remarked Mr. Farrant emphatically. "Come, Broad; you had better make short work of the matter. Give him two minutes, and if he doesn’t own up, let me go for a policeman." "I am afraid I must," said the stationer sadly.—"You see, Hartland, the thing’s as plain as a pikestaff; and here," tapping the coin, "is the proof. You can’t explain that away." Jim felt that he was in a desperate situation, and he doubted if even the truth would save him now. Mr. Broad might believe the story—his friend certainly would not—but, after all, it would throw no real light on the mystery. "Well," said his master, "are you going to confess that you took this sixpence from the till?" "No," said Jim, "because it wouldn’t be true." "Good boy!" exclaimed Mr. Farrant sarcastically; "always stick to the truth!" By this time even Mr. Broad was inclined to lose patience; but, controlling his temper, he said, "Perhaps you will tell me how it came to be in your possession?" "I’ll tell you all about it as far as I know, though I’m afraid it won’t do much good. Some weeks ago I lent a boy sixpence. His name is Peters. This evening, while you were away, he called me to the door. He came to pay back the money he had borrowed, because I had asked him for it several times."