me standing. He saw Jeffreys turning over the contents of some of
the trays, taking up a book now and then and examining it, and sometimes
propping himself up against the doorpost and reading page after page.
It was not very entertaining work for the spy; but curiosity is patient,
and Jonah as he watched the unconscious reader at a safe distance
fortified himself by the conviction that he was watching the working-out
of some deep-laid plot.

Presently he saw Jeffreys disappear into the shop, and what was his
amazement, when presently he "casually" passed the door, to see him
seated with the bookseller at a table earnestly poring over and
discussing a small faded sheet of paper which lay between them! Trimble
would have given worlds to know what the mysterious document was, and
what villainy was brewing. Had he known it, he might not have stood out
there in the evening air quite as patiently as he did. For the
mysterious document happened to be nothing but an old tattered and torn
Commonwealth tract which Jeffreys had discovered folded up between the
leaves of an ancient volume of poetry, and which he and his friend the
bookseller were spending a very agreeable half-hour in piecing together
and deciphering.

About seven o'clock Jeffreys rose to go, pocketing the precious relic,
which his friend had given him; and Trimble, having carefully noted down
the name of the shop and the personal appearance of the suspicious
bookseller, followed gingerly back across the bridge. The streets were
getting less crowded, and Jonah had increasing difficulty in keeping
himself concealed as he crawled along on the opposite side of the way
some thirty or forty yards in the rear of his man.

Just as Jeffreys was crossing the space opposite the grand front of the
minster a dog sprang forward to meet him with every token of joy. It
was Julius, and Jeffreys knew that the master could not be very far
away. He turned round for a moment, as though he meditated flight, and
gave Jonah a spasm by the unexpected movement. But before he could
decide Mr Halgrove strolled pleasantly round the corner, and nodded to
him as if he and his ward had not parted five minutes before.

"Ah, John, fine evening for a stroll. On your way home?"

Mr Halgrove till that moment had not had the faintest idea that his
ward was still in York.

"No," said Jeffreys, patting the dog's head and looking very much the
reverse of comfortable.

"They say the front