"This stud!" he said. "That's so!--it is platinum, and the device is curious. And the device is right there, too, see--on those solitaire cuff-studs! But--" He paused looking at Zillah, whose eyes were now fastened on the cuff-studs, and who was obviously so astonished as to have lost her tongue. "You seemed mighty amazed at my studs!" said the stranger, with another laugh. "Now, you'll just excuse me if I ask--why?" Zillah regained her wits with an effort, and became as business-like as usual. "Don't, please, think I'm asking idle and purposeless questions," she said. "Have you been long in London?" "A few days only," answered the stranger, readily enough. "Have you read of what's already called the Praed Street Murder in the papers?" continued Zillah. "Yes--I read that," the stranger said, his face growing serious. "The affair of the old man--the pawnbroker with the odd name. Yes!" "I'm the old man's granddaughter," said Zillah, brusquely. "Now, I'll tell you why I was upset by seeing your platinum stud. A solitaire stud, made of platinum, and ornamented with exactly the same device as yours, was found in our parlour after my grandfather's death--and another, evidently the fellow to it, was found in an eating-house, close by. Now, do you understand why I wished to speak to you?" While Zillah spoke, the American's face had been growing graver and graver, and when she made an end, he glanced at Lauriston and shook his head. "Say!" he said. "That's a very serious matter! You're sure the device was the same, and the material platinum?" "I've been reared in the jewellery trade," replied Zillah. "The things I'm talking of are of platinum--and the device is precisely the same as that on your stud." "Well!--that's mighty queer!" remarked the American. "I can't tell you why it's queer, all in a minute, but I do assure you it's just about the queerest thing I ever heard of in my life--and I've known a lot of queerness. Look here!--I'm stopping at this hotel--will you come in with me, and we'll just get a quiet corner and talk some? Come right in, then." He led the way into the hotel, through the hall, and down a corridor from which several reception rooms opened. Looking into one, a small smoking lounge, and finding it empty, he ushered them aside. But on the threshold Zillah paused. Her business instincts were by this time fully aroused. She felt certain that whoever this stranger might he, he had nothing to do with the affair in Praed Street, and yet might be able to throw extraordinary light on it, and she wanted to take a great step towards clearing it up. She turned to the American. "Look here!" she said. "I've told you what I'm after, and who I am. This gentleman is Mr. Andrew Lauriston. Did you read his name in the paper's account of that inquest?" The American glanced at Lauriston with some curiosity. "Sure!" he answered. "The man that found the old gentleman dead."