enough of a philosopher to reason this all out. She merely knew that she did not want to tell anyone of the strange incident, no not even her roommate. And in the end that was just what happened. She told no one.

When she went back to her work on Monday night a whole busy day had passed in the library. Thousands of books had shot up the dummy elevator to have their cards stamped and to be given out. Thousands had been returned to their places on their shelves. Was a single book missing? Were two or three missing? Lucile had no way of knowing. Every book that had gone out had been recorded, but to look over these records, then to check back and see if others were missing, would be the work of weeks. She could only await developments.

She was surprised at the speed with which these developments came. Mr. Downers, the superintendent, was noted for his exact knowledge regarding the whereabouts of the books which were under his care. She had not been working an hour when a quiet voice spoke to her and with a little start she turned to face her superior.

"Miss Tucker," the librarian smiled, "do you chance to have any knowledge of the whereabouts of the first volume of our early edition of Shakespeare?""Why, no," the girl replied quickly. "Why--er"--there was a catch in her 
throat--"is it gone?" Mr. Downers nodded as he replied: "Seems temporarily so to be. Misplaced, no doubt. Will show up later." He was still smiling but there were wrinkles in his usually placid brow. "I missed it just now," he went on. "Strange, too. I saw it there only Saturday. The set was to be removed from the library to be placed in the Noyes museum. Considered too valuable to be kept in the library. Very early edition, you know." 

Strange!" he puzzled. "It could not have been taken out on the car, as it was used only in the reference reading room. It's not there. I just phoned. However, it will turn up. Don't worry about it." He turned on his heel and was gone. 

Lucile stared after him. She wanted to call him back, to tell him that it was not all right, that it would not turn up, that the strangely quaint little person she had seen in the library at midnight had carried it away. Yet she said not a word; merely allowed him to pass away. It was as if there was a hand over her mouth forbidding her to speak. 

"There can't be a bit of doubt about it," she told herself. "That girl was standing right by the shelf where the ancient Shakespeare was kept. She took it. I wonder why? I wonder if she'll come 

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