"That is the man who sold me the necklace, sir!" she says, in a hesitating voice. "I recognize him—it is the pedlar."
Mr. Rushton starts, and catches the pedlar by the arm.
"Come!" he commences.
The pedlar rises without assistance, sullenly, prepared for the stocks.
"Where did you get this necklace? Speak!"
The lawyer's eyes awe the man, and he stammers. Mr. Rushton grasps him by the collar, and glares at him ferociously.
"Where?"
In five minutes he has made the pedlar speak—he bought the necklace from the mother of the young man standing at the door.
"From the Indian woman?"
"Yes, from her."