"But we've got to get our chair," insisted Sid.
"Isn't there some sort of a legal way of doing it?" asked Phil. "Can't we go to court and get a search warrant."
"What we need, in case we locate the chair, is a writ of replevin," declared Tom, as if he knew all the ins and outs of the legal game.
"Is replevin any relation, say a second cousin, to lis pendis?" asked Frank, who seemed to have a special fondness for that term.
"Nothing like it," asserted Tom. "To replevin your goods, it means you get a court order to take them wherever you can find them. Now my plan is this: We'll go into the store, look around until we locate our chair, and then boldly demand it. If the fellow refuses to give it up we'll go get a policeman, and swear out a warrant against him for receiving stolen goods. That's what it amounts to, and we three fellows are witnesses enough, and can prove that the chair is ours."
"Good!" cried Phil. "We're with you, Tom."
No better plan having been proposed, Tom's was agreed to, and they proceeded on toward the shop, having come to a halt to discuss the situation.
Eagerly they peered forward as they swung around the corner. Each of the three wanted to be first to sight their beloved chair. As for Frank, he felt that he had already seen it.
"That's the place," suddenly remarked the Cal-
