Orville College: A Story

by Mrs. Henry Wood

"Is it? But if you would! The truth is—I don't see why I should not tell you—we lost one about that time. I do not wish to claim the pencil, only to see it for my own satisfaction, just to set my doubts at rest. They have been—" dreadful, was the word on her tongue, but she paused in time and substituted another—"tiresome."

The jeweller was an honest man; kind and considerate. It was, as he said, entirely against the rule to show pledges left with them; but the young lady seemed very anxious, and was evidently sincere. He stood in hesitation.

"I am Miss Brabazon," she resumed, drawing out her card-case and showing her cards. "My father is Dr. Brabazon, of Orville College; you may have heard of it and of him. Indeed you may trust us not to make any fuss or trouble about this."

"Orville College," repeated the jeweller. "I am almost sure that was the address given with the pencil. I think the person who pledged it said he was a master there."

A rush of conviction and the image of Mr. Henry came over her together. "Do let me see it," she said; "I am certain it is the same."

He went into the other shop by a communicating door, was away for several minutes, and came back with a box in which was the pencil. She only needed to take one glance at it; the chased gold was bright as ever, the diamond flashed with all its accustomed brilliancy. It was Dr. Brabazon's. "Yes, it is papa's," she exclaimed. "Who was it that pledged it?"

"The name in the book is Henry Jebb; I have been looking. But there seems to have been some doubt whether——. Here, Simms," broke off the jeweller, "step this way."

"Henry Jebb!" mentally repeated Miss Brabazon, as a young man, running his hand through an amazing head of light hair, came in from the other shop.

"Tell this lady the particulars of the transaction I have been asking you about," said his master. "When you took in this pencil, you know."

"It was Watson that took it in, sir, not me; but I was standing by and heard what passed. The gentleman came in, mem," he continued, turning to Miss Brabazon, "and said he wanted a little temporary accommodation for a few days, and he pulled the pencil out of his waistcoat pocket, mem, and asked what we'd lend upon it; as much as ever we could, he hoped, for he was hard up till his remittances came. Well, Watson, seeing a pencil like that, with the diamond stone in the top, was rather sharp; he asked whether it was the party's own, and if it wasn't a family relic, and lots more things; he was quite down upon him, mem, in fact, and gave him a look from head to foot as if he didn't think him exactly the one to be offering such an article. 'Hadn't you better call in the nearest policeman and tell him to question me?' says the customer. 'I can go where I'm known if you decline to negotiate.' Well, what with his coolness, and his composed manner, and his gentleman's voice, Watson thought it was all right, mem, and lent him seven pounds upon it. 'What name?' says Watson. 'Henry,' answered he, and stopped. 'Henry what?' says Watson; 'is that the surname or Christian name?' and the stranger stroked his chin for a moment looking at him. 'I suppose I must give it in?' said he; 'Henry Jebb.' 'What address?' asks Watson next. 'Oh, Fleet Street,' said he. 'That won't do this time,' says Watson, 'I should like the real one.' 'Then take it,' said he, picking up the money and putting it in his pocket, and he gave the address that is in the book, sir,"—turning to the jeweller—"Orville College. 'I'm one of its masters,' he went on, 'and that pencil was presented to me by the pupils, so you may be sure I shall redeem it. In a week's time from this it will be in my pocket again.' But here it is still," concluded the speaker; "and it often is so."