The Flyman was already looking for himself.
'There's not; there's no name. Is this a plant between you two to do me out of my fair due?'
'Don't you make any mistake about that, my man. If that's the ring we want you shall have your thousand right enough. It's worth all that to us. If it's not, then it's worth nothing, and less than nothing. Don't let's have any error about this, Burton. You're quite sure that you recollect what your uncle's ring was like?'
'I'd pick it out among ten thousand. I've seen it hundreds--I should think, thousands--of times. I wore it myself for a year. It used to amuse the old man to fool about with it, lending it to all sorts of people. He lent it to me, and he lent it to Guy. I believe he lent it to Miss Bewicke; and it was because, when he asked her, she wouldn't give it him back again that he got his back up.'
'I suppose, Flyman, it was Mr Holland you tackled?'
'It was the bloke you pointed out to me this afternoon--that I do know. Here, I borrowed these things from off him--took them out of his pockets.' He produced a miscellaneous collection. 'Here's a cigar-case with initials on it, "G. H.," and cards inside with a name on them, "Mr Guy Holland." I should think that that ought to be about good enough.'
'You're sure that that was the only ring he had about him?'
'I'll swear to it. I ran the rule over him quite half a dozen times. He only had one ring--there wasn't one upon his hands--and that's it.'
'And you, Burton, are certain it's not your uncle's?'
'As sure as that I'm alive.'