“She’ll come back fast enough, I’ve hooked her,” said Sam. “The old ’un’ll be pleased. I most times hook a couple of customers in the morning, and the old ’un is always delighted. Your pleasure, ladies? How do, Susan?”
All the favourable opinion I had formed of Susan Ford was abundantly verified by her conduct during this interview. Sam examined the ruby ring from every possible point of view, he squinted frightfully over it. He turned on the gas, and caused its rays to pierce through the heart of the gems. They leaped up as if with living fire.
Presently he said that it was his bounden duty to consult the old ’un. Before I could expostulate he had vanished with the ring into an inner sanctum. He came back in the course of ten minutes.
“How will you take it, miss?” he said. “In notes or gold?”
For a moment I felt too petrified to speak.
“What do you mean?” I presently gasped. “I don’t want to sell the ring.”
“Oh, come now, miss, that’s a good ’un! You know better than that. Don’t she, Miss Ford?”
Susan bridled and got very red when she was addressed as Miss Ford. But, being my staunch friend, she came quickly to the rescue.
“Miss Lindley knows her own mind, Sam,” she said severely. “She don’t want to sell the ring, only to value it.”
Sam, looking intensely mysterious and amused, darted once more into the back room.