ickly, "and I am very sure he ought not to have
been."

"It was a damnable shame!" broke out the policeman. "But the facts were
against you at the time, Stane. The hand-writing experts----"

"Oh the likenesses were there, right enough," interrupted Stane, "and I
certainly had been in Harcroft's rooms, alone, and I suppose in company
with his cheque book. Also I had lost rather a pot of money on the
boat-race, and I am bound to admit all the other incriminating
circumstances."

"Yes, but you don't know everything. Long after you--er--went down,
Jarlock, who was in our set, told me something about Ainley."

"What was that?" asked Stane quickly.

"Well, it was that just at that time, Ainley was broke and borrowing
money right and left, and that he had forged Jarlock's name to a bill.
Jarlock became aware of the fact through the bill being presented to
him for payment, and he tackled Ainley about the business. Ainley owned
up, and Jarlock let the thing go, for old acquaintance' sake. But just
about the time of your trouble he left the 'Varsity and went on a trip
to the Cape, and it was a full year after before he even heard what had
befallen you. It made him think of his own affair with Ainley, and when
he met me months afterwards he took me into his confidence. We talked
the matter over carefully, and knowing you as we both did, we reached
the conclusion that you were innocent and that Ainley was the guilty
man."

"Any evidence?"

"No, nothing beyond that matter of the bill. We judged by general
principles. Ainley always was something of a rotter, you know."

Stane laughed a trifle bitterly. "He's by way of becoming a personage
of importance today. But I think you're right, the more so since I
encountered him up here."

He gave a brief account of his meeting with Ainley, told how he had
waited for him on two successive nights, and how on the second night he
had been kidnapped without any apparent reason. The policeman listened
carefully and at the end nodded his head.

"Looks fishy!" he commented. "The fellow was afraid of you." Then after
a moment he asked, "Your question? The question you wanted to ask
Ainley, I mean. What was it?"

"It was about a sheet of paper with some writing on it. You shall see
it."

He felt in his hip-pocket, and producing a small letter-case, took out
a thin packet wrapped in oiled silk. Opening it, he unfolded a sheet of
foolscap and handed it to the other.

It was covered wit