“We don’t know that,” said Neale, somewhat bruskly. “You must prove it.”
“Prove it?”
“Yes. In the first place, describe the bracelet. Tell us just how it is engraved, or ornamented, or whatever it is. How wide and thick is it? What kind of a bracelet is it, aside from its being made of silver?”
“Ah! Queen Alma’s bracelet is so well known to the Costello—how shall I say? Yes, yes, yes!” cried the man, with rather graceful gestures. “And when Beeg Jeem tell me she is lost—”
“All right. Describe it,” put in Neale.
Agnes suddenly tugged at Neale’s sleeve. Her pretty face was aflame with excitement.
“Oh, Neale!” she interposed in a whisper. “Even if he can describe it exactly we do not know that he is the real owner.”
“Shucks! That’s right,” agreed the boy.
He turned to Costello again demanding:
“How can you prove that this bracelet—if it is the one you think it is—belongs to you?”