"Debby made inquiries about me," said Paul, laughing, to cheer her. "Yes! she sent Bart to Wargrove and found out all about me and my family and my respected father. She wished to be certain that I was a proper lover for her darling." "I am your darling now," whispered Sylvia, squeezing his arm, "and you are the most charming lover in the world." Paul was so enchanted with this speech that he would have defied public opinion by embracing her there and then, but Sylvia walked away rapidly down Gwynne Street and shook her head with a pursed-up mouth when Paul took a few steps after her. Recognizing that it would be wise not to follow her to the shop lest the suspicious old man should be looking out, Beecot went on his homeward way. When he drew near his Bloomsbury garret he met Grexon Hay, who was sauntering along swinging his cane. "I was just looking for you," he said, greeting Paul in his usual self-contained manner; "it worries me to think you are so hard-up, though I'm not a fellow given to sentiment as a rule. Let me lend you a fiver." Paul shook his head. "Thank you all the same." "Well, then, sell me the brooch." Beecot suddenly looked squarely at Hay, who met his gaze calmly. "Do you know anything of that brooch?" he asked. "What do you mean? It is a brooch of Indian workmanship. That is all I know. I want to give a lady a present, and if you will sell it to me I'll take it, to help you, thus killing two birds at one shot." "I don't want to sell it," said Paul, looking round. His eyes fell on a respectable man across the road, who appeared to be a workman, as he had a bag of tools on his shoulder. He was looking into a shop window, but also--as Paul suddenly thought--seemed to be observing him and Hay. However, the incident was not worth noticing, so he continued his speech to Grexon. "I tried to pawn it with Aaron Norman," he said. "Well, what did you get on it?" asked Hay, with a yawn. "Nothing. The old man fainted when I showed him the brooch. That is why I asked you if you know anything strange about the article." Hay shook his head, but looked curiously at Beecot. "Do you know anything yourself?" he asked; "you seem to have something on your mind about that brooch." "There is something queer about it," said Paul. "Why should Aaron Norman faint when he saw it?" Hay yawned again. "You had better ask your one-eyed friend--I think you said he was one-eyed." "He is, and a frightened sort of man. But there's nothing about that opal serpent to make him faint." "Perhaps he did so because it is in the shape of a serpent," suggested Grexon; "a constitutional failing, perhaps. Some people hate cats and other fluttering birds. Your one-eyed friend may have a loathing of snakes and can't bear to see the representation of one." "It might be that," said Beecot, after a pause. "Aaron is a strange sort of chap. A man with a past, I should say."