Going straight to her own sanctum, she took the set of beautiful furs which poor Old Nick’s money had bought, put them carefully into her drawer, and locked it. Then, placing the key in her pocket, she threw a shawl about her and started for the stable, where Hiram Bents, the foreman, was holding a monologue on the subject of “durned fool men who would sell their next o’ kin, if they could get enough cash for ’em, never mind if they bruck the purtiest leetle heart that went a pit-a-pat!” “Hiram, did you see Nick sold?” “I reckon I did, missie.” “Who bought him?” “An old duffer what was goin’ about tryin’ to git a three-hundred-dollar critter fer one hundred.” “Where did he take Nick?” “Down ter the city ter some horse exchange, where I’ll bet a fiver he sold him fer twict what he give fer him.” “Do you know the man’s name?” “Guess I kin git it. He left his cyard fer the boss, and said he’d call round agin when he had anythin’ likely he wanted fer ter sell,” and Hiram gave an indignant snort, as he took a card from a shelf above his head. “Here yer be, missie.” Isabel took the card and read: “Jacob Vedder, Dealer in Horses. East Twenty-fifth Street, New York.” “Thanks, Hiram. I’ll keep this, please.” “Ye’re welcome. I don’t want ter tech the thing; seems like it’s a scrap o’ Old Nick’s hide.” Isabel went back to her room, and, locking the door, opened her trunk. Down in the bottom was a jewel box, from which she took a small leather case containing a ring of curious design. The ring itself was of dull gold, holding an uncut stone. It had been sent to her when she was a mere child by an uncle in India. Excepting to mention that the stone was valuable, he had said but little about it, and she had kept it more as a curiosity than for any supposed intrinsic value. It was still three days to Christmas and bitter cold. Weather-wise folk predicted a snowstorm within forty-eight hours. “Mamma, dear, can you spare me to-morrow? I want to go to the city for the day,” said Isabel, as she came into the pleasant sitting room and placed her arm caressingly about her mother’s shoulders. “Spare you, sweetheart? I’ll try. What is the demand--Christmas shopping?” asked her mother, drawing Isabel’s hand to her lips and kissing it softly. “Oh, lots of things! May I go?” “Certainly, dear.” It was a determined young spirit which stepped into the big city next morning and, making her way to one of the large jewelry stores uptown, asked to see the proprietor. Ushered into his private office, she lost not a moment in coming straight to the point, and said to him: “I have something I wish to sell.” “Yes? May I inquire what it is?”. “It is a ring.” A smile crept into the jeweler’s eyes. “Not a rarity; do you think so?” “That I do not know, and I wish you to decide. I have been told that it is very valuable. It was sent to me from India by my uncle.” “Have you shown it to anyone else?”