University of Virginia Library

19. CHAPTER XIX
PAUL DELIBERATES

PAUL stood in the street irresolute. He looked hopelessly up and down Broadway, but of course the jeweler from Syracuse was not to be seen. Seeking for him in a city containing hundreds of streets and millions of inhabitants was about as discouraging as hunting for a needle in a haystack. But difficult as it was, Paul was by no means ready to give up the search. Indeed, besides the regret he felt at the loss, he was mortified at having been so easily outwitted.

"He's taken me in just as if I was a country boy," thought Paul. "I dare say he's laughing at me now. I'd like to get even with him."

Finally he decided to go to Tiffany's, and ask them to detain any one who might bring in the ring and offer it for sale. He at once acted upon this thought, and, hailing a Broadway stage, for no time was to be lost, soon reached his destination. Entering the store, he walked up to the counter and addressed the clerk to whom he had before shown the ring.

"Do you remember my offering you a diamond ring for sale this morning?" he asked.

"Yes, I remember it very well. Have you got it with you?"

"No, it has been stolen from me."

"Indeed! How was that?" asked the clerk, with interest.

"I met in the cars a well-dressed man, who called himself

a jeweler from Syracuse. He examined the ring, and offered me more than Mr. Tiffany, but asked me to bring it to him at Lovejoy's Hotel. When I got there, he drugged me with chloroform, and when I recovered he was gone."

"You have been unlucky. There are plenty of such swindlers about. You should have been careful about displaying the ring before strangers."

"I was showing it to a friend."

"Have you notified the police?"

"Not yet. I came here to let you know, because I thought the thief might bring it in here to sell."

"Very likely. Give me a description of him."

Paul described Mr. Felix Montgomery to the best of his ability.

"I think I should know him from your description. I will speak to Mr. Tiffany, and he will no doubt give orders to detain any person who may offer the ring for sale."

"Thank you."

"If you will give me your address, we will notify you in case the ring is brought in."

Paul left his address, and went out of the store, feeling that he had taken one step toward the recovery of his treasure. He next visited the police headquarters, and left a detailed description of the man who had relieved him of the ring and of the circumstances attending the robbery. Then he went home.

His mother looked up as he entered.

"Well, Paul?" she said, inquiringly.

"I've got bad news, mother," he said.

"What is it? Tell me quick!" she said, nervously.

"The ring has been stolen from me."

"How did it happen, Paul?"

"First, I must tell you how much the ring is worth. I went up to Tiffany's, and showed the ring to Mr. Tiffany himself. He told me that he would give me two

hundred and fifty dollars for it, if I would satisfy him that I had a right to sell it."

"Two hundred and fifty dollars!" repeated Mrs. Hoffman, in amazement.

"Yes, the diamond is very large and pure."

"Two hundred and fifty dollars would be a great help to us."

"Yes, mother, that is what makes me feel so bad about being swindled out of it."

"Tell me how it happened. Is there no chance of recovering it?"

"A little. I shall do what I can. I have already notified the police, and Mr. Tiffany."

"You have not told me yet how you lost it."

When Paul had told the story, his mother asked, "Did you mention it in the cars that you had offered it at Tiffany's?"

"Yes, and I mentioned his offer."

"Perhaps the thief would be cautious about going there, for that very reason. He might think the ring would be recognized."

"He would go to a large place, thinking that so valuable a ring would be more readily purchased there."

"He might go to Ball & Black's."

"That is true."

"It would be well to give notice there also."

"I will go up there at once. I only wish I could meet Mr. Felix Montgomery; I don't think he would find it so easy to outreach me a second time."

"Take some dinner first, Paul."

"Then I must hurry it down, mother; I don't want to run the risk of getting too late to Ball & Black's. I can't help thinking what a splendid thing it would be if we had the two hundred and fifty dollars. I would buy out Barry's stand, and I would get a sewing-machine for you, and we could live much more comfortably. It makes me

mad to think I let that villain take me in so! He must think me jolly green."

"Anybody might have been deceived, Paul. You mustn't blame yourself too much for that."

Leaving Paul on his way to Ball & Black's, we return to Mr. Felix Montgomery, as we shall continue to call him, though he had no right to the name. After stupefying Paul, as already described, he made his way downstairs, and, leaving his key at the desk, went out.

"I hope my young friend will enjoy himself upstairs," he chuckled to himself. "He's quite welcome to the use of the room till to-morrow morning. It's paid for in advance, and I don't think I shall find it convenient to stop there."

He took the ring from his vest pocket and glanced at it furtively.

"It's a beauty," he murmured, complacently. "I never saw a handsomer ring of the size. What was it the boy said he was offered for it? Two hundred and fifty dollars! That'll give me a lift, and it doesn't come any too soon. My money is pretty low."

He walked across the City Hall Park, and at Barclay street entered a University place car.

"Evenin' paper, mister?" said a ragged newsboy, whose garments were constructed on the most approved system of ventilation.

"What have you got?"

"Evenin' Post, Mail, Express!"

"Give me an Express. Here's ten cents."

"I haven't got but three cents change, mister."

"Never mind the change," said Mr. Montgomery, in a fit of temporary generosity, occasioned by his good luck.

"Thank you, sir," said the newsboy, regarding Mr. Montgomery as a philanthropist worthy of his veneration.

Felix Montgomery leaned back in his seat, and, with a benevolent smile, ran his eyes over the columns of the Express. Among the paragraphs which attracted his attention

was one relating to a comrade, of similar profession, who had just been arrested in Albany while in the act of relieving a gentleman of his pocketbook.

"Jerry always was a bungler," said Mr. Montgomery, complacently, to himself. "He can't hold a candle to me. I flatter myself that I know how to manage a little affair, like this, for instance, as well as the next man. It'll take a sharp detective to lay hold of me."

It might have been thought that the manner in which he had gained possession of the ring would have troubled Mr. Montgomery, but it was many years since he had led an honest life. He had made a living by overreaching others, and his conscience had become so blunted as to occasion him little trouble. He appeared to think that the world owed him a living, and that he was quite justified in collecting the debt in any way he could.

About twenty minutes brought the car to Amity street and Mr. Montgomery signaled the conductor, and, the car being stopped, he got out.

He walked a few rods in a westerly direction, and paused before a three-story brick house, which appeared to have seen better days. It was now used as a boarding, or rather lodging-house. The guests were not of a very high character, the landlady not being particular as long as her rent was paid regularly. Mr. Montgomery ascended the steps in a jaunty way, and, opening the door with a passkey, ascended the front staircase. He paused before a room on the third floor, and knocked in a peculiar manner.

The door was opened by a tall woman, in rather neglected attire.

"So you're back," she said.

"Yes, my dear, home again. As the poet says, `There is no place like home.' "

"I should hope there wasn't," said Mrs. Montgomery, looking about her disdainfully. "A very delightful home

it makes with such a charming prospect of the back yard. I've been moping here all day."

"You've found something to console you, I see," said her husband, glancing at the table, on which might be seen a bottle of brandy, half-emptied, and a glass.

"Yes," said Mrs. Montgomery; "I felt so bad I had to send out for something. It took every cent I had. And, by the way, Mrs. Flagg sent in her bill, this morning, for the last two weeks' board; she said she must have it."

"My dear," said Mr. Montgomery, "she shall have it."

"You don't mean to say you've got the money, Tony!" exclaimed his wife, in surprise.

"No, I haven't got the money; but I've got what's just as good."

"What have you got?"

"What do you say to this?" and Mr. Montgomery drew from his pocket the diamond ring, whose loss was so deeply felt by our hero.

"Is that genuine?" asked the lady.

"It's the real thing."

"What a beauty! Where did you get it?"

"It was kindly presented me by a young man of the tender age of fifteen or thereabouts, who had no further use for it."

"You did him out of it, that is. Tell me how you did it."

Mr. Montgomery told the story. His wife listened with interest and appreciation.

"That was a smart operation, Tony," she said.

"I should say it was, Maria."

"How much is the ring worth?"

"Two hundred and fifty dollars."

"Can you get that for it?"

"I can get that for it."

"Tony, you are a treasure."

"Have you just found that out, my dear?"