out for a few minutes; and by and by he reappeared, wearing a dark
skull-cap, with an Inverness cape about his shoulders, and carrying in
his hand a stout staff. He joined them by lifting--another marvel--a
mahogany flap and walking straight through the counter! and so led the
way out of the shop and up the street to the right, while the children
in delicious terror trotted at his heels.

They came to an open doorway, with a lamp burning above it.
Dark wavering shadows played within, across the threshold; but the old
man stepped through these boldly, and pushed open the door of a lighted
room. The children followed, and stood for a moment blinking.

The room was lined with books--shelves upon shelves of books; and among
their books a dozen men sat reading in total silence. Some held thin,
unbound pages of enormous size--Arthur Miles was unacquainted with
newspapers--open before them; all were of middle age or over; and none
of them showed surprise at the new-comers. The old chemist nodded to
one or two, who barely returned his nod and forthwith resumed their
studies.

He walked straight across the room--this was wonderful too, that he
should know, among so many books, exactly where to search--adjusted his
spectacles, stooped with palms on knees, peered for ten seconds or so
along the backs of a row of tall volumes, drew forth one, and bearing it
to the table, laid it open under the lamplight.

"Let me see--let me see," he muttered, turning the pages rapidly.
"H--H.O.--here we are! Hockley--Hoe--no." He turned another three or
four pages. "Holbeach--Hollington--Hollingwood--Holme--ah, here we have
it!--Holmfirth, Holme Fell, Holme Moss, HOLMNESS."

He paused for a moment, scanning the page while they held their breath.
Then he read aloud, yet not so as to disturb the other students--

"'_Holmness_. An Island or Islet in the Bristol Channel--'"

"Ah!" The boy let his breath escape almost in a sob.

"'Uninhabited--'"

The old chemist looked up over the rims of his spectacles; but whether
questioning or because the sound had interrupted him, Tilda could not
determine.

"Yes," said the boy eagerly. "They thought that about--about the other
Island, sir. Didn't they?"

The old man, either not hearing or not understanding, looked down at the
page again. He read out the latitude and longitude--words and figures
which neither of the children understood.

"'Extreme length, three-quarters of a mile; width