"By Jove!" Lawrence exclaimed aloud. "I never saw anything like it in all my life. That emerald’s a perfect whopper, and must be worth a fortune. He forgot to take it out, of course; and, hang it all, I don’t see how the mischief I can get it back to him. I don’t even know his name." He slipped it on his finger, and found that it fitted well. Then, as he sat admiring its perfect, almost uncanny, beauty, the thought flashed into his mind that, by its means, he might solve the mystery of the man in black. "Of course he’ll come for it," he thought. "I have only to keep it, and he’ll show up before long to claim it. Then perhaps I’ll find out something." He began to gather up the bills and stow them carefully away, his fingers trembling with excitement. There was much to be done if he were to carry out the stranger’s conditions. *CHAPTER V.* *THE POWER OF AVARICE.* In the hall of the lodging house, Lawrence stood by the door, holding a crisp yellowback in his hand. Mrs. Kerr was panting up the basement stairs, from which came the odor of cooking cabbage to join the ghosts of a thousand boiled dinners that lingered in the stuffy, airless place. Barry was not yet used to it. He felt stifled, breathless, almost nauseated, and he longed to get away. He did not look at the ferretlike face of the slovenly woman as he handed her the bill. There was something about her he could not abide. "Here’s your money," he said brusquely. "I am leaving at once." She grasped the bill, and examined it closely. Then she flashed a swift, sidelong glance at Lawrence. There was something about his face and bearing which she had never seen before, and it aroused her curiosity. "I ain’t got a bit of change in the house," she said, in a very different tone from the one she had used an hour before. "Mebbe you want it to count on this week." Barry’s fingers had closed around the knob. "You can keep the change," he returned shortly. "I said I was leaving at once. I am not coming back." "Lord save us!" she gasped. "Don’t say that, Mr. Lawrence. Don’t say as you’re leavin’ on account of them hasty words I spoke this mornin’. Fergit it. I’m a lonely widder woman as has to work my fingers to the bone to make both ends meet." Her voice took on a whining tone. "I has to count every penny, an’ sometimes I’m most distracted, an’ says what I don’t mean. You——" She broke off abruptly as the door slammed, and instantly a venomous expression leaped into her face. Like a flash, she had yanked the door open, and run out on the little stoop, to peer around the corner. For a moment or two she stood shivering in the cold, her small, close-set eyes fixed intently on the back of the man hurrying toward Ninth Avenue. When he had disappeared she came back into the hall, her face thoughtful.