Baboo Jabberjee, B.A. by F. Anstey (read e book .txt) 📕

“I know there is such a minister there. To whom do these pearls belong?”

“To my mother.”

“A likely story that a country minister's wife should own such valuable pearls,” said Mrs. Simpson, in a tone of sarcasm.

“How do you account for it?” asked the clerk.

“They were given my mother years since, by a rich lady who was a good friend of hers. She has never had occasion to wear them.”

Mrs. Simpson smiled significantly.

“The boy has learned his story,” she said. “I did not give you credit for such an imagination, John Cavanaugh.”

“My name is Grant Thornton, madam,” said our hero, gravely.

Five minutes later two men entered the store. One was a policeman, the other the head of the firm. When Grant's eye fell on the policeman he felt nervous, but when he glanced at the gentleman his face lighted up with pleasure.

“Why, it's Mr. Clifton,” he said.

“Grant Thornton,” said the jeweler, in surprise. “Why, I thought—”

“You will do me justice, Mr. Clifton,” said Grant, and thereupon he related the circumstances already known to the reader.

When Mrs. Simpson found that the boy whom she had selected as an easy victim was known to the proprietor of the place, she became nervous, and only thought of escape.

“It is possible that I am mistaken,” she said. “Let me look at the pearls again.”

They were held up for her inspection.

“They are very like mine,” she said, after a brief glance; “but I see there is a slight difference.”

“How about the boy, madam?” asked the elder clerk.

“He is the very image of my errand boy; but if Mr. Clifton knows him, I must be mistaken. I am sorry to have given you so much trouble. I have an engagement to meet, and must go.”

“Stop, madam!” said Mr. Clifton, sternly, interposing an obstacle to her departure, “we can't spare you yet.”

“I really must go, sir. I give up all claim to the pearls.”

“That is not sufficient. You have laid claim to them, knowing that they were not yours. Officer, have you ever seen this woman before?”

“Yes, sir, I know her well.”

“How dare you insult me?” demanded Mrs. Simpson; but there was a tremor in her voice.

“I give her in charge for an attempted swindle,” said Mr. Clifton.

“You will have to come with me, madam,” said the policeman. “You may as well go quietly.”

“Well, the game is up,” said the woman, with a careless laugh.

“It came near succeeding, though.”

“Now, my boy,” said the jeweler, “I will attend to your business. You want to sell these pearls?”

“Yes, sir; they are of no use to mother, and she needs the money.”

“At what do you value them?”

“I leave that to you, sir. I shall be satisfied with what you think them worth.”

The jeweler examined them attentively. After his examination was concluded, he said: “I am willing to give four hundred dollars for them. Of course they cost more, but I shall have to reset them.”

“That is more than I expected,” said Grant, joyfully. “It will pay all our debts, and give us a little fund to help us in future.”

“Do you wish the money now? There might be some risk in a boy like you carrying so much with you.”

“What would you advise, Mr. Clifton?”

“That you take perhaps a hundred dollars, and let me bring the balance next Saturday night, when I come to pass Sunday at Colebrook.”

“Thank you, sir; if it won't be too much trouble for you.”