"It is Carl Upton's."
"Carl——" Steve stared bewilderedly.
"It seems that you must have—er—taken it after all, Edwards."
"But I didn't, sir! Tom will tell you that——"
He faltered, and a puzzled look came into his eyes as he regarded the book in the instructor's hand.
"Well, really, Edwards,"—Mr. Daley spoke lightly, but his countenance was grave—"you mustn't expect me to put it down to a miracle. If you didn't put the book here on your table, who did? Unless Hall knows something about it? Was he in my study this evening?"
There was a bare instant of hesitation. Then, "No, sir," replied Steve steadily.
"Er—you are sure? He might have called on me when you were out."
"We were together all the evening, Mr. Daley."
"Then——" The instructor cleared his throat nervously.