“Is Mr. Dewitt in?” she questioned anxiously.
“You are the owner of the jade pin?” the clerk inquired, and as she assented, added: “Mr. Dewitt is expecting you. Right this way, please.”
He led her to the rear of the store and opened the door of a private office. Mr. Dewitt, an elderly man with gray hair and keen, alert eyes, arose and politely offered Madge a chair opposite his desk.
“I shouldn’t have taken your time,” Madge began apologetically, “but one of your salesmen said he thought you might be interested in my pin. I don’t suppose it is really jade.”
“Indeed it is,” the jeweler assured her. “A small stone but one of the most perfect I have ever seen. May I ask how it came into your possession?”
Madge explained that the pin had been found but did not mention under what circumstance.
“You have made no attempt to find the owner?”
“I thought I’d come to you first.”
“You did quite right,” he assured her. “In fact, I intended to warn you against advertising in the paper. This pin is valuable and you must be very cautious in seeking its owner. Perhaps you are acquainted with the stone’s history.”
“No,” Madge responded eagerly, “what can you tell me of it?”