The old finisher turned completely round this time, and looked his
interest. Mary opened her hand, and displayed the brooch she had
found.

James Gregory drew his lips into the form of a whistle, but made no
sound. He looked from the brooch to Mary, and back again.

"Well?" he said.

"I found it in the rags; blue Egyptians, you know, Mr. Gregory. It
was inside the lining of a jacket. Do you think--what do you think
about it? is it glass, or--something else?"

Gregory took the ornament from her, and held it up to the light,
screwing his eyes to little points of light; then he polished it on
his sleeve, and held it up again.

[Illustration: "GREGORY POLISHED IT ON HIS SLEEVE, AND HELD IT UP
AGAIN."]

"Something else!" he said, briefly.

"Is it--do you think it might be worth something, Mr. Gregory?"
asked Mary, rather timidly.

"Yes!" roared Gregory, with a sudden explosion. "I do! I b'lieve
them's di'monds, sure as here I sit. Mary Denison, you've struck it
this time, or I'm a Dutchman."