read, and Penrod remained in the room, for he
was determined to have the silver polish.

"Here's something curious," said Mr. Schofield, as his eye fell upon a
paragraph among the "locals."

"What?"

"Valuable relic missing," Mr. Schofield read. "It was reported at police
headquarters to-day that a 'valuable object had been stolen from the
collection of antique musical instruments owned by E. Magsworth Bitts,
724 Central Avenue. The police insist that it must have been an inside
job, but Mr. Magsworth Bitts inclines to think it was the work of a
negro, as only one article was removed and nothing else found to be
disturbed. The object stolen was an ancient hunting-horn dating from
the eighteenth century and claimed to have belonged to Louis XV, King of
France. It was valued at about twelve hundred and fifty dollars."

Mrs. Schofield opened her mouth wide. "Why, that IS curious!" she
exclaimed.

She jumped up. "Penrod!"

But Penrod was no longer in the room.

"What's the matter?" Mr. Schofield inquired.

"Penrod!" said Mrs. Schofield breathlessly. "HE bought an old horn--like
one in old hunting-pictures--yesterday! He bought it with some money
Uncle Joe gave him! He bought it from Roddy Bitts!"

"Where'd he go?"

Together they rushed to the back porch.

Penrod had removed the lid of the cistern; he was kneeling beside it,
and the fact that the diameter of the opening into the cistern was
one inch less than the diameter of the coil of Louis the Fifteenth's
hunting-horn was all that had just saved Louis the Fifteenth's
hunting-horn from joining the drowned trousers of Herman.

Such was Penrod's instinct, and thus loyally he had followed it.

... He was dragged into the library, expecting anything whatever. The
dreadful phrases of the newspaper item rang through his head like the
gongs of delirium: "Police headquarters!" "Work of a negro!" "King of
France!" "Valued at about twelve hundred and fifty dollars!"

Eighty-five dollars had dismayed him; twelve hundred and fifty was
unthinkable. Nightmares were coming to life before his eyes.

But a light broke slowly; it came first to Mr. and Mrs. Schofield, and
it was they who illuminated Penrod. Slowly, slowly, as they spoke more
and more pleasantly to him, it began to dawn upon him that this trouble
was all Roddy's.

And when Mr. Schofield went to take the horn to the house of Mr.
Ethelbert Magsworth Bitts, Penrod sat quietly with his mother. Mr.
Schofield