The two strangers with Tuxall's aid, had
prepared the fake meteor with a view to exploiting the star-man. Bailey
had literally tumbled into the plot. They didn't know how much he had
seen. The whole affair hinged on his being kept quiet. So they took
him along. All that I had to do, then, was to find the deviser of the
three-foot poster. He was sure to be Bailey's abductor."

"Say," said Farley with conviction, "I believe you're the devil's first
cousin."

"When you left me in Harwick," said the Reverend Peter Prentice, before
Average Jones could acknowledge this flattering surmise, "you said that
strangers had done the kidnapping. How did you tell they were strangers
then?"

"From the fact that they didn't know who Bailey was, and had to
advertise him, indefinitely, as 'lost lad from Harwick.'"

"And that there were two of them?" pursued the minister.

"I surmised two minds: one that schemed out the 'planting' of the
clothes on the shore; the other, more compassionate, that promulgated
the advertisement."

"Finally, then, how could you know that Bailey was injured and
unconscious?"

"If he hadn't been unconscious then and for long after, he'd have
revealed his identity to his captors, wouldn't he?" explained the
Ad-Visor.

There was a long pause. Then the woman said timidly:

"Well, and now what?"

"Nothing," answered Average Jones. "Tuxall has got away. Mr. Prentice
has recovered his son. You and Farley have had your lesson. And I--"

"Yes, and you, Mr. Detective-man," said the woman, as he paused. "What
do you get out of it?"

Average Jones cast an affectionate glance at the sprawling legend which
disfigured his floor.

"A unique curio in my own special line," he replied. "An ad which never
has been published and never will be. That's enough for me."

There was a double knock at the door, and Mr. Algernon Spofford burst
in, wearing a face of gloom.

"Say, Average," he began, but broke off with a snort of amazement.
"You've found him!" cried. "Hello, Mr. Prentice. Well, Bailey, alive and
kicking, eh?"

"Yes; I've found him and them," replied Average Jones.

"You've done better than me, then. I've been through the post-office
department from the information window here to the postmaster-general in
Washington, and nobody'll help me find Mortimer Morley."

"Then let me introduce him; Algy, this is Mortimer Morley; in less
private life Mr. Tim Farley, and his wife, Mrs. Farley, Mr. Spofford."

"W