mysterious! And, by the way," she smiled, "I have never taken the trouble to look into that papier-mache lunch box the child lost on the street, the night we rescued her from that strange and terrible woman. There might possibly be some clue in it." 
"Might," agreed Florence. 
Now that the thought had occurred to them, they were eager to inspect the box. Lucile's fingers trembled as they unloosed the clasps which held it shut. And well they might have trembled, for, as it was thrown open, it revealed a small book done in a temporary binding of vellum. 
Lucile gave it one glance, then with a little cry of surprise, dropped it as if it were on fire. 
"Why! Why! What?" exclaimed Florence in astonishment. 
"It's Frank Morrow's book, Walton's 'Compleat Angler.' The first edition. The one worth sixteen hundred dollars. And it's been right here in this room all the time!" Lucile sank into a chair and there sat staring at the strangely found book. 
"Isn't that queer!" said Florence at last. 
"She--she'd been to his shop. Got into the building just the way you said she would, by posing as a scrubwoman's child, and had made a safe escape when that woman for some mysterious reason grabbed her and tried to carry her off." 
"Looks that way," said Florence. "And I guess that's a clear enough case against her, if our Shakespeare one isn't. You'll tell Frank Morrow and he'll have her arrested, of course." 
"I--I don't know," hesitated Lucile. "I'm really no surer that that's the thing to do than I was before. There is something so very strange about it all." 
The book fell open in her hand. The inside of the front cover was exposed to view. The gargoyle in the corner stared up at her. 
"It's the gargoyle!" she exclaimed. "Why always the gargoyle? And how could a child with a face like hers consciously commit a theft?" 
For a time they sat silently staring at the gargoyle. At last Lucile spoke. 
"I think I'll go and talk with Frank Morrow." 
"Will you tell him all about it?" 
"I--I don't know." 
Florence looked puzzled. 
"Are you going to take the book?" 
Lucile hesitated. "No," she said after a moment's thought, "I think I sha'n't." 
"Why--what--" 
Florence paused, took one look at her roommate's face, then went about the business of gathering up material for a class lecture. 
"Sometimes," she said after a moment, "I think you are as big a riddle as the mystery you are trying to solve." 
"Why?" Lucile exclaimed. "I am only trying to treat everyone fairly." 
"Which can't be done," laughed Florence. "There is an old proverb which runs like this: 'To do right by all men is an art which no one knows.'" 
Lucile approached the shop of Frank Morrow in a troubled state of mind. She had Frank Morrow's valuable book. She wished to play fair with him. 

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