“Gold, of course! Let me see what you’ve got.”
“Why, certainly.” Tresco took gold watches from the window, from the glass case on the counter, from the glass cupboard that stood against the wall, from the depths of the great iron safe, from everywhere, and placed them in front of the pretty Jewess. Then he glanced with self-approval at the bank-clerk, and said: “I guarantee them to keep perfect time. And, after all, there’s nothing like a good watch—a young lady cannot keep her appointments, or a young man be on time, without a watch. Most important: no one should be without it.”
Rachel was examining the chronometers, one by one; opening and shutting their cases, examining their dials, peering into their mysterious works. She had taken off her gloves, and her pretty hands, ornamented with dainty rings, were displayed in all their shapeliness and delicacy.
“What’s the price?” she asked.
“Prices to suit all buyers,” said Tresco. “They go from ten pounds upwards. This is the one I recommend—it carries a guarantee for five years—jewelled throughout, in good, strong case—duplex escapement—compensation balance. Price £25.” He held up a gold chronometer in a case which was flat and square, with rounded corners, and engraved elaborately—a watch which would catch the eye and induce comment.
The jeweller had gauged the taste of his fair customer.
“Oh! the duck.”
“The identical article, the ideal lady’s watch,” said Tresco, unctuously.
“And now the chain,” said Rachel.
Benjamin took a dozen lady’s watch-guards from a blue velvet pad, and handed them to the girl.