“That is true, sir,” replied Edgerton, returning the smile tenfold, and speaking with marked emphasis. “Now,” he continued, “if you’ll hand over the cash, squire, I’ll go.” “Oh! but you have not told me how you gained possession of the brooch yet.” “Well,” laughed the other, “I was not aware it was in the bargain for me to reveal all my slight-of-hand performances, though it was easy enough done. You see I had my eye on the woman, and one day she fainted in the street, and I very humanely went to her assistance; a little maneuvering and the thing was mine.” “Where does she live?” asked the squire, scowling darkly. “Couldn’t say just now, squire; but perhaps I can find out,” replied Edgerton, with a sly glance at the dark face before him. “Well, at all events, you have earned your hundred dollars easily enough.” He handed him the other fifty as he spoke. “Just keep your eye open, and report occasionally, and you shall be well paid for it.” “All right; and now I will say good-evening to you, sir. It is some distance back to the city, and it is getting late.” Ronald Edgerton passed out into the night, leaving Squire Moulton to indulge in more pleasing reflections than he had enjoyed this many a day. “Ah!” muttered Edgerton, “you little know, my worthy squire, with whom you are dealing. I shall study this game pretty thoroughly. Your instinct is finer than your honor, you fool, for you did not like to trust me; but you were in rather a tight place, and I warn you to look to it, that some day you are not in a tighter one.” CHAPTER IX. CONFIDENCE. Six years! How much significance those two short words contain! To how many souls they have brought joy and sorrow, weal and woe—some lifted to the highest pinnacle of happiness, while others are driven to the deepest depths of despair! Hearts so gay and happy six years ago, now crushed with their weight of trials and cares. Bright eyes have wept away their luster over hopes that were born but to wither and die. The cankerous worm, sorrow, gnawing at once happy hearts, has robbed the once rounded cheek of its bloom and beauty, leaving in their place deep lines of pain and suffering which time can never remove. Sorrow! sorrow! The earth is full of sorrow! Yet a happy few there are who move on in the even tenor of their way, growing each year more beautiful and lovely, making the world glad, bright, and gay, dispensing sunshine and joy along the pathway of their lives, giving and receiving a full measure of earth’s choicest blessings—love, joy, happiness! We will have nothing to do, dear reader, with life’s shady side just now. Our lines are cast in more pleasant places, and we will enter for a while the charmed circle of the careless and free. Madame Alroyd’s elegant up-town mansion was all one glittering blaze of light and beauty.