e a silly
struggling fish in the net of his own theories! No, that must never be.
He flung himself at his work. He was revising the catalogue of his
miniatures and in a minute he began to fumble and search about his
over-loaded desk.

"Everybody is trying to thwart me this morning," he cried angrily.

"What's the matter, father?" asked Dick, laying down the _Times_.
"Can I help?"

"I wrote a question to _Notes and Queries_ about the Marie Antoinette
miniature which I bought at Lord Mirliton's sale and there was an answer
in the last number, a very complete answer. But I can't find it. I can't
find it anywhere"; and he tossed his papers about as though he were
punishing them.

Dick helped in the search, but beyond a stray copy or two of _The Prison
Walls must Cast no Shadow_, there was no publication to be found at all.

"Wait a bit, father," said Dick suddenly. "What is _Notes and Queries_
like? The only notes and queries I read are contained in a pink paper.
They are very amusing but they do not deal with miniatures."

Mr. Hazlewood described the appearance of the little magazine.

"Well, that's very extraordinary," said Dick, "for Aunt Margaret took it
away last night."

Mr. Hazlewood looked at his son in blank astonishment.

"Are you sure, Richard?"

"I saw it in her hand as she stepped into her carriage."

Mr. Hazlewood banged his fist upon the table.

"It's extremely annoying of Margaret," he exclaimed. "She takes no
interest in such matters. She is not, if I may use the word, a virtuoso.
She did it solely to annoy me."

"Well, I wonder," said Dick. He looked at his watch. It was eleven
o'clock. He went out into the hall, picked up a straw hat and walked
across the meadow to the thatched cottage on the river-bank. But while he
went he was still wondering why in the world Margaret had taken away that
harmless little magazine from his father's writing-table. "Pettifer's at
the bottom of it," he concluded. "There's a foxy fellow for you. I'll
keep my eye on Uncle Robert." He was near to the cottage. Only a rail
separated its garden from the meadow. Beyond the garden a window stood
open and within the room he saw the flutter of a lilac dress.

From the window of the library Mr. Hazlewood watched his son open the
garden gate. Then he unlocked a drawer of his writing-table and took out
a large sealed envelope. He broke the seal and drew from the envelope a
sheaf of press cuttings. They were the verbatim