He had barely completed these operations when the carriage stopped. Quickly gathering the woman, who was beginning now to revive, in his arms, he bore her into the house before which they had stopped, and left her in the care of the kind-hearted lady.
The next day Edgerton, completely transformed by rich and handsome apparel, looking what he was in reality—every inch a gentleman—entered one of the first jewelry establishments in the city, and ordered a brooch to be made exactly like the one he had with him. When it was completed he took the two to an artist, had the pictures copied and the copies put into the new ones, and in just one week from the day on which he made the bargain with the squire, he was back again to report his success.
It was evening when he arrived, and he was shown into the library where the old man was sitting.
It was a damp, chilly evening, and there was a glowing fire in the grate, which rendered the room cheerful and inviting.
“Well, squire,” remarked Edgerton on entering, “you see taking a feller on trust ain’t so bad after all. Here I am back again, and with the plunder safe and sound in my pocket!”
“Really, Mr. Edgerton, I am surprised that you should have been so expeditious,” replied Squire Moulton, a flash of joy lighting up his wrinkled face. “Where are they?” he continued, eagerly.
“Here,” replied Edgerton, and handed him the brooch which he had had made.
He took it, and opening each lid, convinced himself that they were really the pictures of the faces he wished to possess, then shutting them with a snap, he uttered an oath and cast them into the blazing grate.
“Zounds!” exclaimed his ally, springing from his chair as if to save the doomed jewel; then drawing in a deep breath, he sank back again, inwardly congratulating himself that it was only the copy, and not the original.
“There!” said Squire Moulton, with an evil smile. “Those infernal pictures will never trouble anybody again.”