Paul showed the ring.
Eliakim took it, and his small, beadlike eyes sparkled avariciously as he recognized the diamond, for his experience was such that he could form a tolerably correct estimate of its value. But he quickly suppressed all outward manifestations of interest, and said, indifferently, “What do you want for it?”
“I want twenty dollars,” said Paul, boldly.
“Twenty dollars!” returned the pawnbroker. “That's a joke.”
“No, it isn't,” said Paul. “I want twenty dollars, and you can't have the ring for less.”
“If you said twenty shillings, I might give it to you,” said Eliakim; “but you must think I am a fool to give twenty dollars.”
“That's cheap for a diamond ring,” said Paul. “It's worth a good deal more.”
The pawnbroker eyed Paul sharply. Did the boy know that it was a diamond ring? What chance was there of deceiving him as to its value? The old man, whose business made him a good judge, decided that the ring was not worth less than two hundred and fifty dollars, and if he could get it into his possession for a trifle, it would be a paying operation.
“You're mistaken, boy,” he said. “It's not a diamond.”
“What is it?”