This he laid on the floor without a word, and continued the search.

In another moment he had produced the jeweled pin that exactly answered the description of the one belonging to Mrs.Edwards.
Dick gave a gasp, then a low groan.

A heart-broken sob welled up in Mrs.Prescott's throat.

Dr.Thornton turned as white as chalk.

Hemingway, an old actor in such things, did not show what he felt---if he really felt it at all.
"These are the missing articles, aren't they ?" asked the policeman, straightening up and passing watch and pin to the High School principal.
"I believe them to be," nodded Dr.Thornton, brokenly.
Mrs.Prescott had staggered forward, weeping and throwing her arms around her son.
"O, Richard! Richard, my boy!" was all she could say.
"Mother, I know nothing about how those things came to be in my trunk," protested the boy, sturdily.