“Yes, my books would show the name the person gave.” “Well, will you kindly refer to your books?” “Ach, you make me much trouble!—Yakub,” he called. The young man came. Arkush told Yakub to get him the ledger for 18—. It was a ponderous and dingy volume. Yakub held it open while his employer turned the pages, running his finger from the top to the bottom of each. At length the finger reached a stand-still. Mr. Arkush said, “Yes, I have found it. It was pawned with me by a man calling himself Joseph White.” “The date?” “The 16th January.” “Have you any means of recalling what sort of looking individual Joseph White was? And, by the way, is his residence given?” “‘Residence, Harlem,’ it says. That’s all. How should I remember his looks?” “Of course—you see so many people in the course of a year, it is not wonderful that you should forget.—But tell me, did White put any thing else in pawn that day?” “No, sir; nothing else.” “He simply pawned this one article and went away; that’s all?” “That’s all.” “Hum!” Merivale reflected. At length he resumed. “But at any other time—that is, does White’s name appear on your ledger under any other date?” “Do you expect me to read through the book?” inquired Arkush, with the tone of protestation. “That is too much.” “I’m awfully sorry to annoy you, but this information I am seeking is of such great importance—you understand—it’s worth a consideration.” “Oh, well, that’s different,” said Arkush. “What will you give?” “I’ll give twenty-five cents for each month that you go over—is it enough?” “Here, Yakub,” cried Arkush. “Run back from January 16th, and see if you find the name of Joseph White again.” Yakub carried the ledger to a desk hard by, and began his task. “Do you smoke?” Merivale asked the old man, offering him a cigar. Presently the air became blue with aromatic vapor. “Here you are!” called Yakub from his stool. He proceeded to read aloud, “‘December 7th—one onyx seal ring—amount, one dollar and a quarter—to Joseph White—residence, Leonard street—ticket-number, 15,672. Same date—one ornamented wooden box—amount, fifteen cents—to Joseph White—residence, as above—ticket-number, 15,67.’.rdquo; “Keep still,” said Merivale in an aside, as he saw my lips open. “I’ll do the talking.—I’m infinitely obliged to you, Mr. Arkush. Now, if I may trespass just a little further upon your indulgence, can you tell me whether you still have either of those articles in stock? If so, I should be glad to see them—with a view to purchasing, of course.” “Look, Yakub,” said Arkush. “Was those goods redeemed?” Yakub returned the ledger to the shelf whence he had taken it, and produced another book of similar proportions in its stead. Presently he said, “Number 15,672, sold August 20, 18—; Number 15,673—see profit and loss.” “Number 15,672 was the ring, was it not?” asked Merivale. “Number 15,673 is referred to the account of profit and loss—will you kindly turn to it under that head, Mr. Yakub?”