He opened the door, the bell sounding through the place. “Are you here, Abe?” shouted he. “Comin’, comin’,” was the grunted answer. “Oh, so it is you, Mr. Benson. I hope you don’t want more money.” “That’s just what I do want,” went on George Benson, “and I brought you the family jewels, though I had a darned hard job to get them. If I had never spied upon the old man I would not have known where they were. Lucky for me.” “Yes, very lucky, my dear Mr. Benson,” answered the Jew, rubbing his white hands together, “for if you had not had them I should have given you no more.” “Oh, don’t ring those old changes on me,” stuttered George, “for you know you would give me money if I demanded it.” “No, sir, no more; no more.” “Well, well, you’ve got the jewels, so don’t grumble; don’t grumble.” He held out the box, and the old man took the jewel box greedily in his hands. “Ah, they are beauties. I well remember them. I was the one who got them for your uncle, and he gave them to his wife Helen, and she was a beauty. Then his daughter got them in her turn, and I suppose you do not hear anything of the girl?” “No, and I hope to heaven that she is dead. You see in that case I will get the money anyhow.” “Of course you will,” replied the Jew. “Ain’t your uncle given you all of it before now? You told me he had made a will remembering you and you only.” “That’s true,” bitterly replied the other; “that’s true, but he did not become paralyzed in his hands, did he? He could change it any time he wanted to.” “So he could,” responded the Jew, thoughtfully; “but the question is, did he?” “Yes, he did.” “Then how am I going to get my money?” asked the other. “Oh, Abe, for the love of heaven, don’t be so selfish. If I don’t get it then you won’t, but by putting our heads together, I am sure we can circumvent this lawyer and doctor who have seen fit to put their noses in other people’s business, and I’ll show them that it is not safe to meddle with fire if they don’t want to get burned.” CHAPTER IV. “I don’t see how I can help you any,” ventured the pawnbroker, looking furtively at his companion. “Well, you can; the first thing I need is money, and I must have it.” “Go on with your scheme,” said the other, “and don’t always be talking about money. I know that promises don’t amount to much. Now then, what are you going to do?” “I’m going to keep that girl from her father, and then I am one of the trustees of the money, and if he does not change that part I shall be all right for ready cash as soon as he shuffles off, but I spoke my mind the night he made the new will, and there is no telling what he will do, only that his hands now are useless.” “Then you care for the funds?” began the broker. “Yes, until this girl puts in an appearance.” “Don’t let her appear,” said the other.