dale said it had been made—beaten copper, you know—at least a hundred years, and was a very pretty bit of work. It had got a bulge in one side, and Bickerdale had to straighten it out—very delicate and gentle business. But he did it, and either Mr. Parslewe fetched it away, or it was sent to him. Anyhow, there it is!—that's the box!"
Mr. Weech gave the copper box a tap with his finger-nail as if to evoke a confirmation of his words, and proceeded.
"Now, a bit—can't say now how long exactly—after the box had come back here, I was up at Bickerdale's one Sunday, and after dinner Bickerdale took me into his office. 'I say!' he says, when we were alone. 'You remember that copper box that I was repairing, that you admired?—of course you do! Well, look here, there was some goods came the other day in an old copy of The Times,' he says, 'and my eye just happened to fall on this, on the front page,' and he pulled out an old Times and pointed to an advertisement that he'd marked, in the personal column. I read it, and I gaped at it! This," continued Mr. Weech, suddenly producing a folded newspa-
