"I've no objection," replied Blueskin, in a tone intended to be gentle,
but which sounded like the murmuring whine of a playful bear. "How much
is there in it!"

"It contains gold," replied the lady; "but I will add this ring."

"What am I to do to earn it?" asked Blueskin, with a disgusting
leer,--"cut a throat--or throw myself at your feet--eh, my dear?"

"Give me that child," returned the lady, with difficulty overcoming the
loathing inspired by the ruffian's familiarity.

"Oh! I see!" replied Blueskin, winking significantly, "Come nearer, or
they'll observe us. Don't be afraid--I won't hurt you. I'm always
agreeable to the women, bless their kind hearts! Now! slip the purse
into my hand. Bravo!--the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done
it better. And now for the fawney--the ring I mean. I'm no great judge
of these articles, Ma'am; but I trust to your honour not to palm off
paste upon me."

"It is a diamond," said the lady, in an agony of distress,--"the child!"

"A diamond! Here, take the kid," cried Blueskin, slipping the infant
adroitly under her scarf. "And so this is a diamond," added he,
contemplating the brilliant from the hollow of his hand: "it does
sparkle almost as brightly as your ogles. By the by, my dear, I forgot
to ask your name--perhaps you'll oblige me with it now? Hell and the
devil!--gone!"

He looked around in vain. The lady had disappeared.