The reference was apparently satisfactory, for Mr. Eliason, a fat good-looking big man in a soft wideawake hat, said, "You'll find him inside;" and shut the door behind them.
Mr. Effingham walking through, and following his conductor, found himself in a low-roofed, square-built, comfortable room, round three sides of which were ranged tables, and on these tables were placed large open trays of jewelry. There they lay in clusters, thick gold chains curled round and round like snares; long limp silver chains such as are worn by respectable mechanics over black-satin waistcoats on Sundays; great carbuncle pins glowing out of green-velvet cases; diamond rings and pins and brooches and necklaces. The best emeralds in quaint old-fashioned gold settings nestled by the side of lovely pale opals; big finger-rings made up after the antique with cut cornelian centrepieces; long old-fashioned earrings; little heaps of rubies, emeralds, and turquoises set aside in the corners of the trays; big gold and silver cups and goblets and trays and tazzas; here and there a clumsy old epergne; finger-rings by the bushel, pins by the gross; watches of all kinds, from delicate gold Genevas to the thick turnipy silver "ticker" of the schoolboy; and shoals of watchworks without cases. On this Tom Tidler's ground were crowds of customers, smoking strong cigars, walking about without let or hindrance, and examining--ay, and handling--the jewels without creating the least consternation in the breasts of their vendors.
There was a slight movement among the company at the entrance of the new-comers; but Griffiths seemed to be known to a few, with whom he exchanged salutations, and the appearance of Mr. Eliason with them settled any wandering doubts which might have arisen in the minds of the others. As for Mr. Effingham, he began to think he was in the cave into which Aladdin descended to get the lamp at the bidding of the magician; and he went moving round, gazing first on one side, then on the other, lost in wonder. But Mr. Griffiths, to whom the scene was tolerably familiar, went at once to business, scrutinizing with keen glance the buyers and sellers, poking his nose into the groups of domino-players in the corners, hunting about with admirable patience and forbearance, but for a long time with no result.
At last he stopped before a group of three. One of these was an old Jewish gentleman, with strongly-marked features, overhanging bushy eyebrows, hooked nose, and long white beard. He held in his hand a blue paper, such as generally contains seidlitz-powders, but its contents were diamonds. These were being carefully inspected by the other two men, each of whom had a bright steel pair of pincers, with which he selected a specimen from the glittering heap, breathed upon it, watched it carefully, and in most instances finally laid it on one side for purchase. When this transaction had been gone through and was at an end, the old gentleman folded up his paper with such diamonds as remained in it, placed it in his waistcoat-pocket, and was calmly walking away, when Griffiths touched him on the arm, saying interrogatively, "Mr. Lyons?"
The old man turned in an instant, and threw a sharp look of inquiry over his interlocutor, as he said: "Yes, ma tear sir, that's mai name; not ashamed to own it any veres. Vot might you vant with me?" As he spoke he had covered his waistcoat-pocket with his hand, and stood prim and spry.
"This gentleman--Mr. Effingham--has been looking for you some little time. You told a friend of his--Mr. Pollock--that you would be here to-day, and we've come on purpose to meet you."
"Effingham! Pollock!" said the old man, musing. "O yes, Pollock, who writes those funny burlesques for my friend Wuff; O yes--Effingham," he said. "How do you do, ma tear? Now vot is it? A leetle advance, or something you've got that you don't know how to get rid of, and think I might fancy it, eh?"
"Well, it ain't either, Mr. Lyons," said Effingham. "Its a little information you're in possession of that you might be inclined to give us, and--"
"You're not traps?" asked Mr. Lyons, turning pale.
"Not a bit of it, Mr. Lyons," said Griffiths, striking into the conversation. "Quite different from that. You and I have done business before. I was with--" and here he whispered into Lyons's ear.