llars," he answered, after a brief pause.

"And is this stone false also?"

"Yes, my friend."

"Then I won't pawn either. Here, give me back both rings."

"Here they are."

"I am afraid you are not a good judge of diamonds. I am sure they are
real."

"Go somewhere else, my friend, and satisfy yourself. If you can find any
one in my line who will give you five dollars for either, you had better
take it and call yourself a fortunate man. Will you leave your name?"

"My name is Hamilton Schuyler, and I live on Second Avenue."

"It is a very good name, my friend. I think you must belong to the Four
Hundred."

"I do," answered Schuyler haughtily.

"It is a pity you should have to pawn your aunt's diamonds, and such
diamonds!" chuckled the pawnbroker.

But Mr. Schuyler had already left the shop, and was hurrying along the
avenue to another of the same class at which he had occasionally had
dealings.

CHAPTER XII.

MR. SCHUYLER HAS A BAD TIME.

"I shall have to stay here till I am let out," thought Mark.

He didn't worry particularly, as he knew that even if the rings were
kept they would not involve his employer in any serious loss.

In about half an hour he heard steps ascending the stairs, then he heard
a bolt shoved back, and he was not surprised when the young man, whose
name he did not know, entered the room. He noted, not without amusement,
that his face betrayed dissatisfaction.

"What does your aunt think of the rings?" asked Mark ingenuously.

"Look here, young fellow!" said Schuyler, sitting down and glaring at
the messenger, "you've played a pretty trick on me!"

"What kind of a trick?" asked Mark, arching his eyebrows.

"These rings are not diamond rings."

"What are they, then?" asked Mark in assumed surprise.

"Paste--bogus!" answered Schuyler scornfully.

"Are you sure of that, Mr.----?"

"Schuyler."

"Mr. Schuyler."

"Yes. I took them round to a--jeweler, and had him test them."

"It must be a mistake," murmured Mark.

"It is a very strange mistake, then, for a first-class house to make,"
rejoined Schuyler in a tone of sarcasm.

"So it is. They must have given me the wrong rings," said Mark
innocently.

"My aunt is very much disappointed. She wanted to start this evening for
Buffalo."

"I thought she lived in Syracuse."

"She is going to visit her son in Buffalo," explained Schuyler with
ready wit.

"I am really sorry. If she would go down to the jeweler's w