She walked to the counter with slow steps and said in a weak voice: “I should like to pawn this jewel for as much money as you can give me.” “I cannot give you much,” said the broker, “for it is plated.” The woman raised her eyes pleadingly. “You are mistaken,” said she. “My father gave it to me as a pure gem.” “Then your father was fooled,” said the broker, “for it is nothing but the meanest kind of a plate.” The woman looked about hastily. “What will you give for it?” said she weakly. “Two dollars.” “Two dollars! Why it cost thousands. I know that you are cheating me. I shall not leave it.” “Then take it somewhere else, and don’t bother me with it. I’ll be with you in a moment, Benson.” The woman again looked about. “What, Benson,” whispered she, and then she caught sight of the cousin who had been the cause of all of her trouble. “Oh, so you are here, George Benson? Oh, I am so glad to see you. I want to see my father, for I saw in the paper that he was very sick.” “So he is,” surlily replied Benson, “and he does not want to be bothered with you. Now, keep away from the house, for the servants have had instructions to keep you out.” “Where is Tom Cooper?” asked the girl. “Gone to the devil, for all I know,” said Benson, looking at the little bundle upon the floor, which by some great stroke of fate Tom Cooper had left there. “Oh, I am sure not so bad as that,” said she wistfully. “It is a shame to talk that way of him. Why, George, as a boy he was better than you.” “Where is your husband?” asked Benson, knowing well enough that he was dead, for he had opened all the letters that had come in her handwriting. “Dead.” “Oh, then, it was not all honey after you married him, was it?” “He was good to me, and I believe that you made my father turn from me, and I will go straight to him and tell him that you have kept us apart.” The pawnbroker came up at this moment. “Miss, if you have any crying to do, please go out, for I don’t want you in here,” and, saying this, he gave poor Annie Standish a shove and sent her into the street. “Such people set me crazy,” stormed the old man, “as if my shop was to be a fountain. I hate them all, that’s what I do.” “That woman makes me feel as if I had nothing to live for,” gasped Benson. “Just you let Tom Cooper see her, and I’ll bet you that my cake will be dough in five minutes, but give me the money.” “Are you sure that your uncle told you that you could have these diamonds when he was no more? Now, if they should make a search for them and claim that they were stolen, then I would have no chance but to give them up. Now then, out with the truth.” “Of course he told me that I could have them. Don’t be a fool.” As the question was being argued the door opened and a detective appeared. “Nathans,” said he brusquely, “there has been a set of diamonds stolen from Benson’s mansion, and they will probably be brought here, and if so you keep them, for they will be wanted.”