The Orange-Yellow Diamond | Page 9

inner door, threw
it open and revealed a staircase.
"Hullo there!" he called loudly. "Hullo! Miss Wildrose! Are you
there?"
This was the first time Lauriston had heard Zillah's surname: even in
the midst of that startling discovery, it struck him as a very poetical one.

But he had no time to reflect on it--the man turned back into the
parlour.
"She must be out," he said. "Do you say you found him?"
"Yes--I found him," answered Lauriston. "Just now."
"And what were you doing here?" asked the man. "Who are you?"
Lauriston fancied he detected a faint note of suspicion in these
questions, and he drew himself up, with a flush on his face.
"My name's Andrew Lauriston," he answered. "I live close by. I came
in on --business. Who are you?"
"Well, if it comes to that, my lad," said the man, "I'm
Detective-Sergeant Ayscough--known well enough around these parts!
I came to see the old gentleman about these papers. Now--what was
your business, then?"
He was watching Lauriston very keenly, and Lauriston, suddenly
realizing that he was in an awkward position, determined on candour.
"Well, if you really want to know," he said, "I came to borrow some
money --on these rings."
And he opened his left hand and showed the detective the two rings
which he had taken from his trunk--not half-an-hour before.
"Your property?" asked Ayscough.
"Of course they're my property!" exclaimed Lauriston. "Whose else
should they be?"
Ayscough's glance wandered from the rings to a table which stood, a
little to one side, in the middle of the parlour. Lauriston turned in that
direction, also. Two objects immediately met his eye. On the table
stood a small tray, full of rings--not dissimilar in style and appearance
to those which he held in his hand: old-fashioned rings. The light from

the gas- brackets above the mantel-piece caught the facets of the
diamonds in those rings and made little points of fire; here and there he
saw the shimmer of pearls. But there was another object. Close by the
tray of old rings lay a book--a beautifully bound book, a small quarto in
size, with much elaborate gold ornament on the back and side, and gilt
clasps holding the heavy leather binding together. It looked as if some
hand had recently thrown this book carelessly on the table.
But Ayscough gave little, if any, attention to the book: his eyes were
fixed on the rings in the tray--and he glanced from them to Lauriston's
rings.
"Um!" he said presently. "Odd that you have a couple of rings, young
man, just like--those! Isn't it?"
"What do you mean?" demanded Lauriston, flushing scarlet. "You don't
suggest--"
"Don't suggest anything--just now," answered the detective, quietly.
"But you must stop here with me, until I find out more. Come to the
door--we must have help here."
Lauriston saw there was nothing to do but to obey, and he followed
Ayscough to the street door. The detective opened it, looked out, and
waiting a few minutes, beckoned to a policeman who presently strolled
along. After a whispered word or two, the policeman went away, and
Ayscough beckoned Lauriston back into the shop.
"Now," he said, "there'll be some of our people and a surgeon along in
a few minutes--before they come, just tell me your story. You're an
honest- looking young chap--but you must admit that it looks a bit
queer that I should find you running out of this shop, old Multenius
dead inside his parlour, and you with a couple of rings in your
possession which look uncommonly like his property! Just tell me how
it came about."
Lauriston told him the plain truth--from the pawning of the watch to the
present visit. Ayscough watched him narrowly--and at the end nodded

his head.
"That sounds like a straight tale, Mr. Lauriston," he said. "I'm inclined
to believe every word you say. But I shall have to report it, and all the
circumstances, and you'll have to prove that these two rings were your
mother's, and all that--and you must stay here till the doctor comes with
our people. Queer that the old man should be alone! I wonder where his
grand-daughter is?"
But just then the street door opened and Zillah came in, a big bunch of
flowers under one arm, some small parcels in the other. At the sight of
the two men she started; crimsoned as she saw Lauriston; paled again
as she noticed that Ayscough was evidently keeping an eye on him.
"Mr. Ayscough!" she exclaimed. "What's this?--is something the matter?
What are you doing here?" she went on hurriedly, turning to Lauriston.
"Inside the shop! What's happened?--tell me, one of you?"
The detective purposely kept himself and Lauriston between Zillah and
the open door at the rear of