"No!" said Lauriston. "It belonged to my father. I don't want to sell--I
want to borrow."

Melky pushed the watch back into its owner's hand.

"You go round into Praed Street, mister," he said, in business-like
fashion. "You'll see a shop there with Daniel Multenius over it. He's a
relation o' mine--he'll do what you want. Mention my name, if you like.
He'll deal fair with you. And if you ever want to sell, don't forget me."

Lauriston laughed, and went down the stairs, and out into the dismal
evening. It was only a step round to Praed Street, and within five minutes
of leaving Melky he was looking into Daniel Multenius's window. He
remembered now that he had often looked into it, without noticing the odd
name above it. It was a window in which there were all sorts of curious
things, behind a grille of iron bars, from diamonds and pearls to old
ivory and odds and ends of bric-a-brac. A collector of curiosities would
have found material in that window to delay him for half-an-hour--but
Lauriston only gave one glance at it before hastening down a dark side-
passage to a door, over which was a faintly-illuminated sign, showing the
words: PLEDGE OFFICE.

He pushed open that door and found himself before several small, boxed-off
compartments, each just big enough to contain one person. They were all
empty at that moment; he entered one, and seeing nobody about, tapped
gently on the counter. He expected to see some ancient and Hebraic figure
present itself--instead, light steps came from some recess of the shop,
and Lauriston found himself gazing in surprise at a young and eminently
pretty girl, who carried some fancy needle-work in her hand, and looked