was valuable, or he might even have been taken in himself, if he were not
a judge of jewels.

Dunham examined it as he walked down the street, too perplexed with his
own tumultuous thoughts to remember his usual trolley. He slipped the ring
on his finger and let it catch the morning sunlight, now shining broad and
clear in spite of the hovering rain-clouds in the distance. And gloriously
did the sun illumine the diamond, burrowing into the great depths of its
clear white heart, and causing it to break into a million fires of glory,
flashing and glancing until it fairly dazzled him. The stone seemed to be
of unusual beauty and purity, but he would step into the diamond shop as
he passed and make sure. He had a friend there who could tell him all
about it. His step quickened, and he covered the distance in a short
time.

After the morning greeting, he handed over his ring.

"This belongs to a friend of mine," he said, trying to look unconcerned.
"I should like to know if the stone is genuine, and about what it is
worth."

His friend took the ring and retired behind a curious little instrument
for the eye, presently emerging with a respectful look upon his face.

"Your friend is fortunate to have such a beautiful stone. It is unusually
clear and white, and exquisitely cut. I should say it was worth at
least"--he paused and then named a sum which startled Dunham, even
accustomed as he was to counting values in high figures. He took the jewel
back with a kind of awe. Where had his mysterious lady acquired this
wondrous bauble which she had tossed to him for a trifle? In a tumult of