"Oh, it's you," he said, absently. Then, with a little laugh, "What do you think of this?" He held out to us a small button fashioned of some semiprecious stone like Mexican opal; it glowed with an elusive reddish lustre.
"It looks almost alive," commented Indiman.
"The vital spark, eh? Well, you're not so far out, for it means a man's life."
"What is it, George?" asked Indiman, gravely.
"Not to-night, old chap. It may be a mistake—probably is. Or say that I was kidding you."
"That won't do, George. You've said both too much and too little. Cab there!" he called, and a hansom drew up to the curb.
"You'll excuse me, Thorp—a family affair." He motioned to the boy to enter; he obeyed, sulkily enough, and they drove off.