"What are they going to do with the big ruby in his turban?" asked Lena.
"Oh, that is one of the chief things that I came to tell you about. You,
my dear Mrs. Percival, have especial reason to be interested in this."
He turned, brimming with information, to Lena, "The captain of police
took it to Brand's--the jeweler, you know--to be appraised. Now isn't
this the crown of the whole story? Brand tells him that it is paste!"
Dick sat back in his chair and laughed with abandon, and laughed again.
"And what about my rubies'?" screamed Lena, springing to her feet.
"I have not the slightest doubt that they are paste, too. Everything he
touched was fraud."
"I'm glad of it! I'm glad of it!" cried Dick, with a new access of
mirth. "The old rascal! Giving my wife jewels! Why, Lena, you couldn't
wear his stuff anyway, after all this fracas. It will do to trim a
Christmas tree."
But Lena, with angry face, tapped the floor nervously with her gaudy
small slipper, and made no reply to her husband's hilarity.
Even to her slow-working mind it was evident that she had paid a high
price for some worthless bits of glass. This conferring of a favor was
indeed a bond.
She wondered what Mr. Early thought of her; what Dick would say if he
ever discovered.