e took the candle and disappeared behind the curtains of the
alcove, which, as the reader will remember, concealed the passageway
extending thence, through the conservatory, and into the bedroom.

Maillot could not say how long his uncle was gone; he was still too
full of awe and wonder to note the passage of time; but by and by Mr.
Page returned, bearing the lighted candle in one hand and a small,
worn, leather box in the other.

The first he placed upon the table immediately, and then, after
resuming his chair, laid the little leather box in front of himself.
He sat absently tapping it with his fingers, and from time to time
regarding his nephew with the same secret, indecipherable smile which
the young man had already observed and wondered at.

And now we approach the most startling, the most mystifying, stage of
this amazing conference.

"Before giving you this ruby," said Mr. Page, after a while, "I 'm
going to bind you to a few conditions--for your own protection," he had
hastily added, with a grin, when the young man's face suddenly
lengthened at this unexpected contingency. "You 'll agree fast enough
after you 've heard me. If you don't, you don't get the Paternoster
ruby"--and with a peculiar little laugh--"most people would agree to
anything for that, my lad."

Maillot's interest was now centred upon the conditions; and they at
once became a part of the fairy tale of which he was the
beggar-transformed-into-a-prince hero--so much were they of a nature to
add to his elation, rather than provoke objections.

Therefore he promptly acquiesced in their terms, binding himself upon
his honor as a gentleman to fulfil them to the letter.

"Take this little box to Fluette," were the words with which his uncle
charged him; "show him the contents, but"--and here Maillot said the
old gentleman probed him through and through with a look--"on no
account allow the ruby to go out of your possession--not even for the
briefest instant. Whatever else he may be, Alfred Fluette is no fool.
Once he gets his fingers on this ruby, there 's no telling what he 'll
try to put over on you. Of course he has no idea that you took him at
his word, but I reckon he 'll have to believe the evidence of his own
senses."

Mr. Page had here rubbed his hands together in secret delight, and
Maillot said that his eyes sparkled as he proceeded.

"Then you can make him come to terms. We 'll see which he wants to
keep the worst--his daugh