I could never make up such things to save my life." "Perhaps I didn't make them up," said Arthur, who felt that for once in a way thorough justice was being done to his own cleverness.
"You don't mean you can produce the actual match-box?
Why, you ought to be made Attorney-General or Lord Chancellor." "Can't I, though, I can!" said Arthur, "and something else too.

Suppose we'd found the door was kept open with a wedge of paper addressed in a certain handwriting to a certain name--eh?
and suppose the sack had the initials on it of the same fellow that the paper and match-box belonged to--eh?
That would make a pretty hot case for our side, wouldn't it ?" "My word, youngster; you're a sharp one.

But I suppose it's all make- up!" "Not a bit of it," said Arthur, flushed by his triumph.
"I'll believe it when I see it," said Felgate sceptically.
"I'll show it you now," said Arthur, "if you'll promise to keep it dark.
I'm not making up a bit of it." "If you aren't, all I can say is--Where are they ?" "Come and see," said Arthur, leading the way to his study.
Dig was out on leave in the village.
"There you are," said Arthur, when he had opened his locker and produced the precious relics.

"There's the match-box.

Have you ever seen any others of the same kind?
I have." "I fancy I saw one once," said Felgate.
"Belonging to a fellow six foot two who could reach up to the ledge ?" Felgate nodded.
"Now look at that paper--a bit of the _Standard_: there's part of the address.