As luck would have it, I thought of my diamond breastpin, and taking that article of jewelry from my shirt front, I offered it to the waiter.
“Blast your Brummagem traps!” quoth that gentleman. “D’ ye think I don’t know a diamond from a Bristol stone, or gold from pinchbeck?”
It was pinchbeck, by Jupiter!
The waiter must have been touched by the despair depicted upon my countenance. With a grim smile,
“Come, my fine chap,” said he, “if you are a bilk, it’s plain that you’re a new hand at the trade, and I don’t care about being too hard upon you. Give me your wipe, and I’ll let you off for this time, but you take care you doesn’t come the swell mob again over this ’ere house, that’s all.”
My heart was too full for speech. I gave him my handkerchief with a profound sigh, and throwing the pinchbeck breastpin into the coal-scuttle, I vanished with all convenient speed.
Leaving the coffee-house, I espied my crony, Dick Buffers, across the street. To join him was but the work of a moment.
“Hollo, Dick!” said I, slapping him heartily upon the shoulder. This was the irrepressible outpouring of a bosom, into which a ray of light, imparted by hope, had penetrated, cheering the darksome abode with its enlivening presence. Quickly was my joy turned into sorrow.
“What do you mean, sir?” said Dick, drawing himself up with magnificent reserve. “Do you mean to insult me?”
“Come, Dick,” said I, in a sort of whimper, for I was really becoming very much alarmed, “don’t put a strange face on the matter. It isn’t possible that you don’t know your old friend, Flashington Highflyer? Why we only parted at midnight, and dined together no later than yesterday.”