“He’d better go around to the side door,” thought Agnes aloud. “He must be a very fashionable junkman to come to the front of the house. And at that I don’t believe Mrs. McCall has any rags or papers to sell just now.”
The swarthy man came straight on to the porch and up the steps. Agnes heard the bell, and knowing Linda was busy and being likewise rather curious, she dropped her stocking darning and ran into the front hall.
The moment she unlatched the big door the swarthy stranger inserted himself into the house.
“Why! who are you?” she demanded, fairly thrust aside by the man’s eagerness.
She saw then that he had a folded paper in one hand. He thrust it before her eyes, pointing to a place upon it with a very grimy finger.
“You have found it!” he chattered with great excitement. “That ancient bracelet which has for so many generations been an heirloom—yes?—of the Costello. Queen Alma herself wore it at a time long ago. You have found it?”
Agnes was made almost speechless by his vehemence as well as by the announcement itself.
“I—I—What do you mean?” she finally gasped.
“You know!” he ejaculated, rapping on the newspaper with his finger like a woodpecker on a dead limb. “You put in the paper—here. It is lost. You find. You are Kenway, and you say the so-antique bracelet shall be give to who proves property.”
“We will return it to the owner. Only to the owner,” interrupted Agnes, backing away from him again, for his vehemence half frightened her.