“I am afraid the landlady won't let us carry away our baggage unless we pay our bill.”
“Never mind! Pack it up, and we'll run our chance.”
Felix Montgomery left the house with the ring carefully deposited in his vest pocket. To judge from his air of easy indifference, he might readily have been taken for a substantial citizen in excellent circumstances; but then appearances are oftentimes deceitful, and they were especially so in the present instance.
He made his way quickly to Broadway, and thence to Tiffany's, at that time not so far uptown as at present. He entered the store with a nonchalant air, and, advancing to the counter, accosted the same clerk to whom Paul had shown the ring earlier in the day.
“I have a valuable ring which I would like to sell,” he said. “Will you tell me its value?”
The clerk no sooner took it in his hand than he recognized it.
“I have seen that ring before,” he said, looking at Mr. Montgomery keenly.
“Yes,” said the latter, composedly; “this morning, wasn't it?”
“Yes.”
“My boy brought it in here. I ought not to have sent him, for he came very near losing it on the way home. I thought it best to come with it myself.”