"The jewelry department," I repeated. "I want to look at some rings."
"Rings," she repeated, regarding me with a rather blank expression. "May I ask what kind of rings, for what sort of use?"
"Finger rings," I repeated, feeling that the young woman could not be so intelligent as she looked.
At the word she glanced at my left hand, on one of the fingers of which I wore a seal ring after a fashion of my day. Her countenance took on an expression at once of intelligence and the keenest interest.
"I beg your pardon a thousand times!" she exclaimed. "I ought to have understood before. You are Julian West?"
I was beginning to be a little nettled with so much mystery about so simple a matter.
"I certainly am Julian West," I said; "but pardon me if I do not see the relevancy of that fact to the question I asked you."
"Oh, you must really excuse me," she said, "but it is most relevant. Nobody in America but just yourself would ask for finger rings. You see they have not been used for so long a period that we have quite ceased to keep them in stock; but if you would like one made to order you have only to leave a description of what you want and it will be at once manufactured."
I thanked her, but concluded that I would not prosecute the undertaking any further until I had looked over the ground a little more thoroughly.
I said nothing about my adventure at home, not caring to be laughed at more than was necessary; but when after dinner I found the doctor alone in his favorite outdoor study on the housetop, I cautiously sounded him on the subject.