“Indeed!” drawled Jane Kelly, eying her friend distrustfully; “so you are certain there is no mistake about the bank. It don’t happen to be under the bed now, in a little morocco box, inside of one with iron clamps?” “What, what!” exclaimed the old woman, starting up fiercely, “you know this; you have been peeping and prying about my room, eh? But it isn’t there; I sent boxes and all down to the bank; so you can try at your game there; perhaps you’ve got a skeleton-key, or something of that sort.” “No,” said Jane, rising in a fury; “but I’ve got the power to make you suffer, and I will, if that ear-ring isn’t forthcoming by to-morrow night. My oath is good yet, and one picks up a little law now and then in the institution. It’s no joke to bribe a person to murder.” “Ha! you’re cute, dear—very cute; so you will make oath to that, eh?” “Yes, I will make oath to that, if the diamond ear-ring in my trunk hasn’t a mate by this time to-morrow night.” “But you forget,” cried the old woman, “_that the baby is dead_.” “Not at all, Madame De Marke; I recommended the nurse; that was all. She has had plenty of children before from the Almshouse.” Madame De Marke moved restlessly in her seat, and a look of crafty thought stole over her face. At last she began to smile, and winding her fingers softly around each other, as if caressing herself for a pleasant idea, she said: “Oh, very well, to-morrow night you may come again; everything shall be ready. You and I are not going to quarrel, dear; come to-morrow night; that’s a dear.” “Yes, I will come,” answered Jane, brusquely; “depend on that.” She arose, and, folding the shawl around her, with a defiant air, went out, muttering: “Yes, yes, we’ll settle this business to-morrow night, no mistake about that.” After she was gone, Madame stood for a moment listening, till the sound of her footsteps died on the stairs; then she dragged forth the iron-bound box, took out the odd ear-ring, and thrust it in her bosom. Snatching up a queer old bonnet, with a crown like a muskmellon, and a front like a sugar-scoop, she framed her witch-like face in it, and stole out of the chamber, treading like a cat, and, in reality, appearing to see in the dark like one. CHAPTER XXII. THE ODD EAR-RING. Jane Kelly had proceeded but a few paces from the outer door, when Madame reached the pavement. Very few persons were in the street at that time of the evening; for, though not very late, the building was deep in the commercial heart of the city, and few persons ever spent the night there. “Oh, there he is.” As the old woman uttered these words, she darted across the street and seized a policeman by the arm.