"Is it? But if you would! The truth is—I don't see why I should not tell you—we lost one about that time. I do not wish to claim the pencil, only to see it for my own satisfaction, just to set my doubts at rest. They have been—" dreadful, was the word on her tongue, but she paused in time and substituted another—"tiresome." The jeweller was an honest man; kind and considerate. It was, as he said, entirely against the rule to show pledges left with them; but the young lady seemed very anxious, and was evidently sincere. He stood in hesitation. "I am Miss Brabazon," she resumed, drawing out her card-case and showing her cards. "My father is Dr. Brabazon, of Orville College; you may have heard of it and of him. Indeed you may trust us not to make any fuss or trouble about this." "Orville College," repeated the jeweller. "I am almost sure that was the address given with the pencil. I think the person who pledged it said he was a master there." A rush of conviction and the image of Mr. Henry came over her together. "Do let me see it," she said; "I am certain it is the same." He went into the other shop by a communicating door, was away for several minutes, and came back with a box in which was the pencil. She only needed to take one glance at it; the chased gold was bright as ever, the diamond flashed with all its accustomed brilliancy. It was Dr. Brabazon's. "Yes, it is papa's," she exclaimed. "Who was it that pledged it?" "The name in the book is Henry Jebb; I have been looking. But there seems to have been some doubt whether——. Here, Simms," broke off the jeweller, "step this way." "Henry Jebb!" mentally repeated Miss Brabazon, as a young man, running his hand through an amazing head of light hair, came in from the other shop. "Tell this lady the particulars of the transaction I have been asking you about," said his master. "When you took in this pencil, you know."