Ling Foo silently cursed all this meddler’s ancestors from Noah down, but his face expressed only mild bewilderment.
“Game?”
“Yes. Why didn’t you offer some other bits of jade? This string is worth two or three hundred gold; and this is patently a string of glass beads, handsomely cut, but nevertheless plain glass. What’s the idea?” 49
“But I have explained!” protested Ling Foo. “The string is not mine. I have in honour to return it.”
“Yes, yes! That’s all very well. You could have told this lady that and offered to return her money. But a jade necklace like this one! No, Miss Norman; my advice is to keep the beads until we learn what’s going on.”
“But to let that jade go!” she wailed comically.
“The lady may keep the jade until to-morrow. She may have the night to decide. This is no hurry.”
Ling Foo saw that he had been witless indeed. The thought of raising the bid of five hundred gold to a thousand or more had bemused him, blunted his ordinary cunning.
Inwardly he cursed his stupidity. But the appearance of a witness to the transaction had set him off his balance. The officer had spoken shrewdly. The young woman would have returned the beads in exchange for the sum she had paid for them, and she would never have suspected—nor the officer, either—that the beads possessed unknown value. Still, the innocent covetousness, plainly visible in her eyes, told him that the game was not entirely played out; there was yet a dim chance. Alone, without the officer to sway her, she might be made to yield. 50
“The lady may wear the beads to-night if she wishes. I will return for them in the morning.”