there, Brian?" asked Guy.

[Illustration: THE AIR PISTOL]

"No practice game," was the answer. "There's a second-eleven match, but
I don't think I shall go to the field. It's too cold to stand doing
nothing."

"Then look here," continued Guy, "I'll tell you what well do; we'll
make a target, and try my air-pistol. I know where there's a piece of
board that'll do, and we can mark it out with rings and a bull's-eye
with your compasses."

"By the way, Guy," said Mrs. Ormond suddenly, "I knew there was something
I wanted to speak to you about. You remember the cork that was inside
Uncle Roger's box? Well, I've found where it came from."

There was an exclamation of interest from the two girls as they raised
their heads to listen.

"Have you, mother?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Ormond, with a half-smile on her face. "It came out of
cook's methylated spirit bottle. You may remember that some little time
ago she found it standing empty."

"But how could the cork have got into the box?" cried Ida.

"It seems to me," answered her mother, "that it must have been dropped
by accident into the chest by the person who emptied the bottle, and
therefore that same person must have been helping us when we opened the
box."

"I know what you're driving at, mother," exclaimed Guy. "You think I
used the spirit, and I've told you heaps of times I didn't. How does
cook know it's the same cork? There may be hundreds of corks exactly the
same size, and you couldn't tell one from another."

"There was no mistaking this one for another," was the answer. "It had
once been stuck in a bottle of red ink, and the end was stained."

"Well, I don't know anything about it," said Guy. "Perhaps," he
continued, struck with a bright idea--"perhaps father cribbed the spirit
to fill that thing he lights his pipes and cigars with, and he may have
dropped the cork into the box. You'd better ask him when he comes home."

There was a laugh, in which Mrs. Ormond joined. "I don't think your
father is the culprit," she answered.--"Of course, if Guy says he hasn't
touched the bottle, we must believe him.--Ida, did you or Elsie use the
spirit for anything?"

Both girls shook their heads, and Brian also declared himself innocent.

"It's a rum thing how it came to be inside the chest," he remarked.
"It's just like a conjuring trick."

"It certainly seems very funny," replied his aunt; "but, like most
conjuring tricks, I dare say the explanation would be very