"Martin is taking care of it in case it’s wanted. And so, sir, the whole thing’s as plain as anything, you see. They just diddled Jimmy, and there you are.—How came he to give you the sixpence, Jim?" "To pay back one that I lent him a month ago." Mr. Broad was quite satisfied of the truth of Dick’s story. It cleared Hartland. Even with the marked coin before him he had somehow doubted the boy’s guilt. His friend showed himself rather more sceptical; but he, too, admitted that the two stories fitted in admirably. "We had better go to the tobacconist’s," said he, "and then give information to the police. I suppose there won’t be much chance of tracing the florin." "If Curly doesn’t know it’s marked," said Dick, "he’ll stick to it till the shilling’s gone, and then I expect Bryant won’t get much of a share." "Then he mustn’t be allowed to suspect anything," said Mr. Farrant.—"Broad, suppose you go along with this amateur detective and identify the shilling. I’ll lock up and meet you later at the police station." "What about Hartland?" "Hum! If this Peters sees him with any of us the florin will soon be a minus quantity.—Can you get home without his seeing you?" "Yes; over Cannon Hill and round by the Park. He isn’t likely to be there." "Well, I suppose we must trust you, though I don’t half like it. However, take care, for your own sake, that you do not meet him." "Come as usual in the morning, Hartland," added his master. "You will be required to give evidence at the police-court." "And thank your lucky stars," remarked Mr. Farrant, "that you won’t be in the dock. Your friend here has saved you from that." Jim recognized this fact fully, and was never slow to acknowledge it either to himself or to others. Slinking home by a roundabout way, he entered the house, where his mother was awaiting him somewhat anxiously. "You’re late, my boy," said she. "I’m afraid your supper has got cold." "It doesn’t matter, mother, thank you. I’m not hungry." His mother looked curiously at him, wondering what had happened. "Don’t you feel well?" she asked. "My head aches a bit. There’s been a bother at the shop." "Try to eat your supper," said she gently. "You can tell me about it afterwards." Jim did his best in order to please her, but the attempt was not very successful. He was thinking of his marvellous escape, and how, but for Dick, he would now be locked up in a prison cell. His mother watched him closely, and with something like fear in her heart; but, being a tactful woman, she did not press him to tell her his story. It came out at last, little by little, and the boy did not spare himself. After all, beyond the folly of associating with unprincipled companions, he had done little of which to be really ashamed. His mother did not interrupt him once; but Jim will never forget the look in her eyes when he told her of the finding of the marked coin, and of his narrow escape from prison.