Meanwhile the Shark, who had picked himself up from the floor and found that he was none the worse for his upset, had been making an investigation on his own account. First, he raised the big stone, shifting it meditatively from one hand to the other, as if he were estimating its weight. Then he crossed to the window and measured the height from the floor of the jagged hole in the glass. This done, he furrowed his brow, pulled out pencil and note-book from his pockets, and fell to making a calculation of some sort. He was still engaged in this when Sam and Poke entered. “No luck!” Poke informed him. “The fellow got away.” The Shark didn’t look up. “Hm-m! Thought he would.” “So that’s why you didn’t try to chase him?” “Partly. ’Nother reason was that I wanted to do some figuring.” “On what?” “Oh, don’t bother me!” snapped the Shark. “I’m right in the midst of things.” Poke frowned. “You needn’t be so snippy. Sam and I have done some figuring, too, and we’ve been quicker about it than you. And we know--what we know.” The Shark raised his eyes. “Umph! Don’t be too all-fired sure,” he counseled. Poke took a step toward him. “See here, you owl! Our figuring has made us certain--morally certain, that is--that we know who threw that stone.” Usually the gaze of the Shark was unwavering, but now he was blinking rapidly. “Go slow, Poke,” said he. “Moral certainty doesn’t answer problems in mathematics.” “Bosh! This isn’t mathematics.” “’Deed it is!” “Hold on, boys!” said Sam. “You’re getting nowhere. Now, Shark, listen! Poke and I believe that Tom Orkney did this thing. We hate to think he would, but we believe it because----” “Because you’re wrong. Tom couldn’t have done it--at least, I don’t admit that he could. It won’t work out that way.” “Work out?” The Shark nodded. “Of course, I have to depend on estimates, and I don’t pretend that I can show exact results,” he began; but paused as Step strode into the room, closely pursued by Boyd and the Trojan. In the middle of the floor Step halted. Not a word said he, but raised a hand dramatically. The hand held an object, recognized at sight by every boy there. It was the cap, owned by Tom Orkney, which had figured in the celebrated quarrel. CHAPTER XII PUNISHMENT POSTPONED There was a long pause, and a very significant pause it was. The boys stared at the cap in Step’s hand; then they glanced from one to another. Here and there a head nodded, as if in answer to an unspoken question; but it was left to Poke to break the silence. “Jupiter crickets! That settles it, I guess. Well, I never have liked Tom Orkney, but I didn’t think him up to this sort of thing!” “Or down to it!” cried Herman Boyd. “Now you’re talking!” chimed in the Trojan. “Lowest-down trick that ever was!” “Trick! Huh! Worse than that!” growled Poke. “Why, that rock might have killed one of us!”