Daniel Multenius's back parlour by some person who had no business there--
in other words by the old man's assailant. And ever since he had found
the stud, Melky had been wondering and speculating on his chances of
finding its owner. Of one thing he was already certain: that the owner,
whoever he was, was no ordinary person. Ordinary, everyday persons do not
wear studs or tie-pins on chains made of platinum--the most valuable of
all the metals. How came a solitaire stud, made of a metal far more
valuable than gold, and designed and ornamented in a peculiar fashion, to
be lying on the hearthrug of old Daniel Multenius's room? It was not to be
believed that the old man had dropped it there--no, affirmed Melky to
himself, with conviction, that bit of personal property had been dropped
there, out of a loose shirt-cuff by some man who had called on Daniel not
long before Andie Lauriston had gone in, and who for some mysterious
reason had scragged the old fellow. And now the question was--who was that
man?

"Got to find that out, somehow!" mused Melky. "Else that poor chap'll be
in a nice fix--s'elp me, he will! And that 'ud never do!"

Melky, in spite of his keenness as a business man, and the fact that from
boyhood he had had to fight the world by himself, had a peculiarly soft
heart--he tended altogether to verge on the sentimental. He had watched
Lauriston narrowly, and had developed a decided feeling for him--moreover,
he now knew that his cousin Zillah, hitherto adamant to many admirers, had
fallen in love with Lauriston: clearly, Lauriston must be saved. Melky
knew police ways and methods, and he felt sure that whatever Ayscough, a
good-natured man, might think, the superior authorities would view
Lauriston's presence in the pawnshop with strong suspicion. Therefore--the
real culprit must be found. And he, Melky Rubinstein--he must have a go at
that game.