"I beg your pardon—it is the very business on which I called," replied the visitor, imperturbably. As he spoke he slipped his fingers into his breast pocket, produced the missing half of the locket, and deftly fitted it to the broken part that dangled from the chain. "I have the honor to return this to you, sir," said he, slipping the jewel into Mr. Colville's hand.
The gentleman's fingers closed over it mechanically.
"Why, what—the devil—where did you find it?" asked he, thrown off his guard by the unconcerned and business air of the under-clerk.
"I did not find it at all," answered "J. Styles," calmly. "I was commissioned to return it to you by Mr. Lawrence. It was found in the hallway of his residence on the evening of the twenty-first instant."
Mr. Colville started as if a bullet had struck him. He grew deathly white even to the lips, and stared at the visitor a moment in silence. At length he recovered himself with a powerful effort, and asked, curtly:
"Well, why did Lawrence think of sending it to me? I did not lose it there. Lawrence is a friend of mine, certainly, but I have not called on him for several months."
"He recognized it as your property, and supposed that you might have called on the ladies that day in his absence," returned the visitor, fabricating this lie with bare-faced effrontery.
"Yes, that seemed plausible," answered Colville, with evident relief.
"I suppose now that you have no idea where you actually lost it?" inquired the clerk, respectfully.
"Not the slightest—indeed, it was but yesterday that I discovered the loss. That must have been several days afterwards if, as you said, it was found on the twenty-first," replied Colville, more affably than he had yet spoken. "You will return my thanks to Mr. Lawrence for its prompt return."