"Oh, then you are William Ashton?"
"Careful! Not so loud. Yes—I am none other than he." A mock dramatic gesture accompanied the phrase, and Iris involuntarily smiled.
"You are charming when you smile," the visitor went on. "I may say that, since I am not making a social call——"
"You seem to be, I think," Iris interrupted him.
"Far from it! You are under a distinct misapprehension. But, alas! your smiles and charms are not the prize I'm seeking. I want that pin," for the first time he spoke a little roughly, "and I'm going to have it!"
"What under the heavens do you want of that pin?" exclaimed Iris, surprised beyond all thought of fear. She had at first supposed he was after the jewels, or money, at least.
"Never mind what for. Are you going to hand it over?"
"I suppose you are making a collection of dramatic trifles, like Mr. Pollock. It seems to be a popular pursuit, this gathering material for a miniature junk-shop!"
"So? Well, are you going to give it to me? Why didn't you put it on the gate post to-night?"
"For the very good reason that I haven't got it."