“Vat you like to pay?”
The Jew was studying the handsome face of the young man, studying it compassionately. If it wasn’t for the gain to be had from Benner, Isaacs would never have taken part in the contemptible plot hatched by Jerry. But money was the Jew’s life blood. His compassion was strong, but his love for money was stronger.
“A hundred pesos is the extent of my pile,” said Dunbar.
“Act, Himmel! Vat you expect to get for a hundert tollars? It vill be shmall, mein friendt. Tiamonts iss vort’ mooch money. A hundert-toller bigness in a tiamont iss shmall.”
“Well, anyways, a hundred-dollar bigness is all I can stand for,” returned Dunbar regretfully. “Next time you come around, Isaacs, maybe I’ll be in better case so that we can dicker for a watch. How much is this?”
He picked up a ring and held it where the slanting rays of the sun entered a window and struck a rainbow of color from the single stone.
“A hundert und feefty toller, Misder Dunbar,” replied the Jew, “but I geave him to you for one hundert toller. You look like a fine poy, und I haf got tender feelings for fine poys. Ven you puy der vatch, den I make it oop vat I lose on der ring. Hein?”
“I’ve bought something, uncle. Put the ring in a box and I’ll stow it away.”
The ring was put in a case, and the money changed hands. Dunbar, whistling blithely, left the room. Isaacs looked after him, shook his head forebodingly, and began replacing his jewelry in the satchel.
While he was about it, a tapping came on the window of the room. He looked up and saw Jerry Benner peering in at him through the glass. A shiver ran through the humped form of Isaacs. Here was where the plot was to begin!