"Valuable!" Frank Morrow, the genial, white-haired proprietor of the little book shop on Peoria, just off Maxwell Street, stared at her over his glasses. "Valuable! My child, if that signature is genuine it is priceless." For the second time he held a ponderous volume, an ancient Bible with hand-tooled leather cover, to the light and read aloud: "'As a token of gratitude for a great service done to our nation and to the crown. Her Majesty, the Queen, Elizabeth.'" "If that signature is genuine," he repeated, "and I have little doubt of it, this book is worth thousands of dollars." "Thing is," Grace sighed, "to find the rightful owner." "Rightful owner!" Frank Morrow stared at her. Nida McFay, his assistant, joined in the stare. "Rightful owner!" Morrow repeated. "_You_ are the rightful owner. Your uncle bought that horsehair trunk at auction for three dollars. You purchased it from him for double that amount. This Bible was in the trunk. It is yours. The law will uphold you." "Yes. But is the law always right? Is there not a law higher than man's law?" Grace's tone was deeply serious. "That," said Frank Morrow, rather bluntly, "is for you to decide." "Decide," she thought, "all I've done since I came to Chicago has been to decide, de--" She broke off to stare at the door of the book shop. It had been quietly opened. A tall man stood there. He was well-dressed, far too well for Maxwell Street. He was neither young nor old. His features were regular. He seemed quite a gentleman. Then the girl got a look into his eyes. She shuddered. They were hard as steel. Next instant she was staring at Nida McFay. Her face had gone ashy white. She was grasping the table as if about to fall. When she was able to look again at the door, Grace found it closed. The man had vanished. "It--it's as if I had not seen him," she told herself. One look at Nida, who was very white, told her that for the time at least it was better that the man should remain unseen. "Whatever you do," Frank Morrow was saying--he had not seen the stranger--"you should guard this Bible with great care. Beyond doubt, it was given by Queen Elizabeth as a token of great esteem to some Protestant bishop. Someone doubtless inherited this Bible containing the Queen's signature and brought it to America. Where has it been since? Who knows? Enough that it is here and that many a collector of rare books would, even in these times, pay a king's ransom to possess it. So guard it with care!" "The Bi--Bible. Oh, yes." The girl put her hands upon it. That Bible had come from the little horsehair trunk she had saved from her uncle's purchase at an express auction. She had taken the trunk to her room, but in her excitement over other matters had failed to open it at her first opportunity.