“I can give the numbers of the whole ten bonds. I don’t know which were taken. I have not compared my list with those that remain.” “Have you the numbers with you?” “Yes, I have them in my notebook.” “Will you be kind enough to repeat them so that the court may take them down?” “Certainly! though I don’t see what good that will do.” “It is of material importance,” said the justice, nodding approval. Colonel Ross drew from his inside coat pocket a large wallet, and, opening it, took out a memorandum, from which he read as follows: “The numbers run from 17,810 to 17,817, inclusive.” “Then the stolen bonds are somewhere between those numbers?” said Harry. “Of course.” Harry turned to the constable. “Mr. Rogers,” he said, “have you the bonds which were found at our house?” “Yes,” answered the constable. “Will you hand them to Squire Davis, and ask him to read off the numbers?” “You will do as Harry requests you,” said the justice. The constable placed the envelope in his hands, and Justice Davis, opening it, drew out three bonds. “I find two one-hundred-dollar bonds,” he said, “and one fifty-dollar bond.” “The two hundred-dollar bonds are mine,” said Colonel Ross. “That is, you claim them,” said the justice, cautiously. “I will read the numbers. “This one,” he proceeded, unfolding one, “is numbered 9,867, and the other”—after a pause—“11,402. It strikes me, Colonel Ross, that you will have to look further for your bonds.” If such a dignified-looking man as Colonel Ross could look foolish, the Colonel looked so at that moment. He realized that he had made a ridiculous exhibition of himself, and he felt mortified to think that he had been so careless as not to have thought of comparing the numbers of the bonds the moment he had discovered them in Harry Gilbert’s possession. “Harry Gilbert is honorably discharged, and the bonds are restored to him,” said the justice. “Thank you, sir,” said Harry, glancing not without natural exultation, at Colonel Ross and Philip. Philip, by the way, looked as uncomfortable as his father. Here there was an unexpected and startling interruption. “I can tell Colonel Ross all about it!” said a distinct voice from near the door. “Come forward then and give your information,” said the justice. This call was answered by Tom Calder, who elbowed his way to the front, dressed in his farm attire, and in his shirt sleeves. Philip’s face might have been observed to grow pale when he heard Tom’s voice, and he looked decidedly sick when the boy walked up to give his testimony. Unobserved by any one, for all eyes were fixed upon Tom, he edged to the door, and slipped out, in an agony of apprehension, for he foresaw what was coming. “Proceed,” said the justice.