Watching Isaacstein's face was an interesting operation to Philip. Under ordinary conditions he might as well expect to find emotion depicted in a pound of butter as in that oily countenance, with its set expression molded by years of sharp dealings. But to-day the man was startled out of all the accustomed grooves of business. He was confronted with a problem so novel that his experience was not wide enough to embrace it. So Philip caught a gleam of resentment at the introduction of the magistrate's name, and he instantly resolved to see Mr. Abingdon again at the earliest opportunity. "Oh, he treated you kindly to-day, did he?" snarled Isaacstein. "Yes, most kindly." "You don't drink, I suppose?" broke in the other, abruptly. "No. I am only a boy of fifteen, and do not need stimulants." He was favored with a sharp glance at this remark, but he bent over his diamonds again and began to examine them, one by one. He knew that the action was tantalizing to his companion, and that is why he did it. Isaacstein went to a sideboard and poured out a stiff glass of brandy. He swallowed it as an ordinary person takes an oyster. "That's better," he said, returning to his desk. "Now we can get to close quarters. Hand over the stones." Philip did nothing of the sort. "Why?" he inquired, blandly. "You know all about them. You can hardly want to examine them so frequently." "Confound it!" cried Isaacstein, growing red with renewed impatience, "what more can I do than agree to your terms?" "I asked you for an advance of fifty pounds. I said nothing about leaving the diamonds in your charge. Please listen to me. I make no unreasonable demands. If you wish to keep the stones now you must first write me a letter stating the agreement between us. If it is right I will give you the diamonds. If it is not according to my ideas you must alter it." "Do you think I mean to swindle you?" "I have no views on that point. I am only telling you what my conditions are." Isaacstein sat back in his chair and regarded Philip fixedly and with as much calmness as he could summon to his aid. A ray of sunshine illumined a bald patch on the top of his head, and the boy found himself idly speculating on developments in the Jew's future life. The man, on his part, was seeking to read the boy's inscrutable character, but the fixity of Philip's gaze at his denuded crown disconcerted him again. "What are you looking at?" he demanded, suddenly. "I was wondering how you will look when you go to heaven, Mr. Isaacstein," was the astounding reply.