TWENTY POUNDS REWARD.

It was the visit to Dan Webster which brought it all about; but for the fact that the handle of Charlie's bicycle got badly bent, so that only the village blacksmith could put it right, the most exciting incident which ever befell the boys would probably never have taken place.

It happened thus.

'Dan,' said Charlie, as he and his brother Sydney were waiting while the blacksmith finished a job he was at work on when they arrived, 'how would you like to earn twenty pounds reward?'

'I should like it amazingly well, sir,' was the reply; 'a third of that sum even would be a godsend to me.'

'How would you spend it?' asked Sydney, with an amused smile.

A serious look came into old Dan's face. 'I'd send my daughter away to the seaside for a change,' he said. 'The doctor tells me it would do her more good than all his medicines. But what's all this,' he asked, 'about twenty pounds reward? I suppose it's some joke of yours, young gentlemen?'

'It's no joke,' said Charlie; 'at least, Lady Winterton does not think so. She is on a visit to our house, you know; and this morning she discovered that she had lost a valuable necklace. Father was so angry that such a thing should have happened that he at once offered twenty pounds reward for the recovery of the necklace.'

Dan thought seriously awhile. Then he said, 'I wonder if the young chap who roused me up this morning at six o'clock, because his horse had cast a shoe, had anything to do with it?'

Both boys were instantly on the alert. 'What was he like?' they asked, in a breath.

Dan described the stranger as minutely as he could. 'He had a small bag slung round him,' he finished, 'and seemed in a great hurry to be off.'

'That's the thief, you may depend upon it,' said Charlie. 'If we can only track him, Dan, you shall share the profits.'

Dan laughed. 'He didn't look much like a thief, now I come to think of it,' said he. 'He had too honest a face for that.'

'Oh, you never know,' was Sydney's comment. 'I dare say he's a thorough bad 'un, if the truth is known. Which way did he go, Dan, when he left you?'

The blacksmith then told all he knew, and the boys, as soon as Charlie's bicycle was ready, started off, as they fondly hoped, on the track of the thief. After a good long ride, they suddenly came upon the object of their search. He was leisurely taking photographs on the outskirts of a wood. No horse was visible, so he had evidently been home to breakfast, and had started forth again.

As the lads drew near he eyed them with interest, his idea being to photograph them.

Charlie, plucking up all the courage he possessed, went straight to the point. 'I wonder if you would mind,' said he, growing very red, 'if we looked into that case of yours?'

'And what for, young stranger, may I ask?' was the reply, given with a slightly American accent.

'Because—because,' stammered Charlie, 'we think you have something there belonging to Lady Winterton.'

'Upon my word,' laughed the young fellow, 'you are a "cute" chap. As a matter of fact, I have, but how did you know it?'

'We guessed it,' said Sydney, thinking it was time he put a spoke in the wheel; 'and now, if you will give it up to us, without making any fuss about it, we won't give you in charge.'

'Very kind of you, I am sure,' replied the thief. 'How am I to reward you for your goodness?'

'Oh, Father is going to give us the reward!' cried Charlie, very pleased with himself. 'It's twenty pounds, you know.'

'Is it, indeed?' said the young man, looking rather mystified. 'Tell me all about it, and what you are going to do with the money?'

There was something so winning about this innocent-looking criminal that the boys grew quite confidential, telling him the history of the whole morning.

'Dan said you had too honest a face for a thief,' said Sydney, at the close of the recital. 'I wonder what made you do it?'

The stranger was nearly doubled up with laughter, which he turned away to hide. 'Well, you see,' he replied, as gravely as he could, 'Lady Winterton left it about so temptingly that I really couldn't help it. It's my first offence, though.'

'Yes, so I should say,' Charlie's voice was eager as he spoke, 'and we should like you to get off, awfully. You are much too nice to go to prison.'

'Thanks, old chap, you're very kind,' said the thief; 'if you really mean to let me off scot-free I will be making a move. Take this case'—here drawing forth from his satchel a small package—'to Lady Winterton, with my regrets and apologies.'

'We have got the necklace!' So cried Charlie, as with flushed, triumphant faces the boys entered the dining-room, where the whole family party was assembled together.

'My dear boy, that's impossible,' replied Lady Winterton, 'for I found it myself, only ten minutes ago, behind a chest of drawers.'

'Then what is this?' cried poor Charlie, looking very surprised. He then told his story, which was certainly a very strange one. However, the mystery was soon cleared up. The case contained nothing but photographs, one of which was a portrait of Lady Winterton taken with her daughter, Alice. Clearly this was the theft to which the stranger (a wealthy, if somewhat eccentric, young American) alluded. He was Alice Winterton's accepted lover, and, half in earnest, half in jest, had taken the photograph for his own use.

The reward was not paid, after all. But when Mr. Hereford and Lady Winterton heard, from Charlie's story, of the blacksmith's trouble, they put their heads together, with the result that Dan Webster's daughter spent a happy time in a seaside home, and came back very grateful, and quite restored to health. The amateur detectives had done some good, after all.