g
heavily. "Where did you get the brooch?" he asked, trying to keep
himself calm, but with a visible effort.

"I got it from my mother, and she received it from my father--"

"Beecot--Beecot," said the old man, fingering his lips, much agitated.
"I know no one of that name save yourself, and you are not a spy--a
scoundrel--a--a--" He caught the eyes of Paul fixed on him in amazement,
and suddenly changed his tone. "Excuse me, but the brooch reminds me of
trouble."

"You have seen it before?"

"Yes--that is no--don't ask me." He clutched at his throat as though he
felt choked. "I can't talk of it. I daren't. How did your father get
it?"

More and more astonished, Paul explained. Aaron listened with his one
eye very bright, and made uneasy motions with his lean hands as the
young man spoke. When Beecot ended he bit his nails. "Yes, yes," he
murmured to himself, "it would be asked for back. But it sha'n't go
back. I want it. Sell it to me, Mr. Beecot."

"I'm sorry I can't," replied Paul, good-naturedly. "But my mother wired
that it was to be returned. My father has discovered that she sent it to
me and is not pleased."

"Did you tell your mother you had shown it to me?"

"No. There was no need."

"God bless you!" breathed the man, pulling out a crimson handkerchief.
"Of course there was no need," he tittered nervously. "It doesn't do to
talk of pawning things--not respectable, eh--eh." He wiped his face and
passed his tongue over his white lips. "Well, you won't sell it to me?"

"I can't. But I'll ask my mother if she will."

"No, no! Don't do that--say nothing--say nothing. I don't want the
brooch. I never saw the brooch--what brooch--pooh--pooh, don't talk to
me of the brooch," and so he babbled on.

"Mr. Norman," said Beecot, gravely, "what is the story connected with
the brooch?"

Aaron flung up his hands and backed towards the counter. "No, no. Don't
ask me. What do you mean? I know no story of a brooch--what brooch--I
never saw one--I never--ah"--he broke off in relief as two pale-faced,
spectacled girls entered the shop--"customers. What is it, ladies? How
can I serve you?" And he bustled away behind the counter, giving all his
attention to the customers, yet not without a sidelong look in the
direction of the perplexed Paul.

That young gentleman, finding it impossible to get further speech with
Aaron, and suspecting from his manner that all was not right, left the
shop. He determined to take the