"You have an exaggerated idea of the thing's value," he said. "I couldn't undertake to offer you more than five pounds for it, and if you take my advice," he added darkly, with a swift glance at his colleague, and back at the girl, "you'll accept the offer, and let us have the thing altogether. You see," he coughed significantly, "awkward questions might be asked about a thing like this, with initials. If I did my business properly, I ought to ask you where you got it."
The colour ebbed out of Christina's face; the possibility that had confronted her a few minutes ago, had all at once taken definite form. This man was hinting—nay, more than hinting—that the pendant had come into her hands by unlawful means, and she had nothing but her word to prove her own statement.
"I have told you—that it belonged to my mother," she said tremblingly; "it is an old family ornament, and—I cannot part with it altogether."
"Look here, miss"—the man's voice became rough and harsh—"it's no use your coming old family ornaments over me. People with old family ornaments don't come to places like this pawning them. What price your 'old family,' eh?" He ended his coarse speech with a coarser laugh, at the sound of which Christina shrank and shivered.
"I will take back my pendant, please," she said, trying to regain her courageous tone. "I do not wish to sell it outright, and if you will not advance me anything on it, there is nothing more to be said."
"Not so fast, not so fast," the man called Tom exclaimed, pushing back the hand she once more extended towards the box. "What Mr. Franks says is very true—how do we know where you got this pendant? The more you go on making difficulties over letting it go, the more doubtful the whole affair looks. Now if you're really so badly in want of cash," he went on brutally, "you take what we offer—five pounds down. If you don't, we may feel ourselves obliged to send for the police—and——"
Quite unable, in her innocence, to understand that the two cowards were bullying her to the top of their bent;—already worn-out by the events of the day, and by many days of fatigue and under-feeding, a panic terror seized upon her. Before the astonished men were aware of her intention, she had reached over the counter, snatched the box from Franks's hand, and fled out of the shop and down the street, her heart beating to suffocation, her eyes wide with terror.
Never once looking back, she threaded her way along the pavement, oblivious of the expostulations of passers-by, against whom she brushed; almost unconscious of their very existence, in her frantic desire speedily to put as great a distance as possible between herself and the objectionable jewellers.
Heedless of the traffic, she dashed headlong over the crossings, and plunging into a network of by-streets, ran on still at full speed, possessed by the horrible fear that those men with the dreadful smiles, might already have put the police upon her track.
"I can't prove the pendant is mine," she panted breathlessly. "I have no proof that I didn't steal it. What can I say if they take me up as a thief?" The bare thought made her redouble her pace, although she was already on the verge of exhaustion, and her breath was coming in great gasps. Beads of perspiration stood on her forehead, and when at last she reached her own room, she was powerless to do more than sink upon a chair, shaking in every limb.