The girl, however, took the pendant between a white thumb and forefinger and looked from it to him with pleased eyes.
"You like it?" she asked.
"I think it's wonderful," said he.
"It is pretty," she replied. "My uncle gave it to me on my last birthday. It used to be in a heathen god's crown in some Chinese or Hindu temple or other."
"The god ought to be pleased to lose it to you," said Luke, "even if it didn't come to you directly."
"Oh, but it did come to me directly," she laughed prettily. "That's half the charm of it. Uncle sent right over there and got it for me."
When Luke found Porcellis again, he asked him about this.
"Who's that girl with the broad, low forehead," he inquired, "and the expression of a stained-glass saint?"
"You're aiming high," said Porcellis; "that's one of the richest girls in New York."
"Who's her uncle?"