"He showed me the ring," continued Mr. Harrison. "It is a very handsome one."
"Was he satisfied with it?" asked Mr. Grant.
"Not fully."
"Why so?"
"He was afraid it might not be solid. In fact, so anxious was he on this point, that he took the ring to your neighbour, over the way, to get his opinion about it."
As Mr. Harrison said this, Grant was conscious that a betrayal of the truth was on his countenance.
"And, of course, Martin said the ring was not solid."
"No, he did not exactly say that. I went with the gentleman, at his request. Martin weighed the ring, and, after doing so, simply stated that gold of the quality of which the ring was made was worth a certain price per pennyweight. By multiplying the number of pennyweights contained in the ring with the price mentioned, he showed that you either lost one dollar on the ring, or filled the centre with some baser metal."
"Well?" The blood had, by this time, risen to the very brow of the jeweller.
"'Cut the ring,' said my friend. It was done, and, to my mortification and astonishment, it proved to be even as he had said. The ring was not solid!"