"Did it strike you that your own rings were remarkably like the rings in
this tray?"

"No, it did not," answered Lauriston. "I know nothing about rings."

Mr. Parminter quietly passed the tray of rings to the Coroner, with
Lauriston's rings lying on a sheet of paper.

"Perhaps you will examine these things and direct the attention of the
jurymen to them?" he said, and turned to the witness-box again. "I want to
ask you a very particular question," he continued. "You had better
consider it well before answering it--it is more important--to you--than
may appear at first hearing. Can you bring any satisfactory proof that
those two rings which you claim to be yours, really are yours?"

There followed on that a dead silence in court. People had been coming in
since the proceedings had opened, and the place was now packed to the
door. Every eye was turned on Lauriston as he stood in the witness-box,
evidently thinking deeply. And in two pairs of eyes there was deep
anxiety: Melky was nervous and fidgety; Zillah was palpably greatly
concerned. But Lauriston looked at neither--and he finally turned to Mr.
Parminter with a candid glance.

"The rings are mine," he answered. "But--I don't know how I can prove that
they are!"

A suppressed murmur ran round the court--in the middle of it, the Coroner
handed the rings to a police official and motioned him to show them to the
jurymen. And Mr. Parminter's suave voice was heard again.