e."

Jimmie Dale was leaning over the table poking gingerly with the tip of
his forefinger at the centre stone in the setting, revolving it gently
to and fro in the light--a very large stone, whose weight would hardly
be less than fifteen carats. Jimmie Dale lowered his head for a closer
examination--and to hide a curious, mocking little gleam that crept into
his dark eyes.

"Yes, I should say you're right, Markel," he agreed judicially. "He
ought to know better than to touch this. It--it would be too hard to
dispose of."

"I'm not worrying," declared Markel importantly.

"No," said Jimmie Dale. "Two hundred and ten thousand, you said.
Any special--er--significance to the occasion, if the question's not
impertinent? Birthday, wedding anniversary--or something like that?"

"No, nothing like that!" Markel grinned, winked secretively, and rubbed
his hands together. "I'm feeling good, that's all--I'm going to make the
killing of my life to-morrow."

"Oh!" said Jimmie Dale.

Markel turned to Carruthers. "I'll let you in on that, too, Carruthers,
in a day or two, if you'll send a reporter around--financial man, you
know. It'll be worth your while. And now, how about this? What do you
say to a little article and the photos next Sunday?"

There was a slight hint of rising colour in Carruthers' face.

"If you'll send them to the society editor, I've no doubt he'll be able
to use them," he said brusquely.

"Right!" said Markel, and coughed, and patted Carruthers' shoulder
patronisingly again. "I'll just do that little thing." He picked up the
necklace, dangled it till it flashed and flashed again under the light,
then restored it very ostentatiously to its case, and the case to his
pocket. "Thanks awfully, Carruthers," he said, as he rose from his
chair. "See you again, Dale. Good-night!"

Carruthers glared at the door as it closed behind the man.

"Say it!" prodded Jimmie Dale sweetly. "Don't feel restrained because
you are a guest--I absolve you in advance."

"Rotter!" said Carruthers.

"Well," said Jimmie Dale softly. "You see--Carruthers?"

Carruthers' match crackled savagely as he lighted a cigar.

"Yes, I see," he growled. "But I don't see--you'll pardon my saying
so--how vulgarity like that ever acquired membership in the St. James
Club."

"Carruthers," said Jimmie Dale plaintively, "you ought to know better
than that. You know, to begin with, since it seems he has advertised
with you, that he runs so