But they
are worth--well, say, fifty shillings at the utmost."
While he spoke Charles looked at Amelia, and Amelia looked at
Charles. Their eyes spoke volumes. The riviere was also supposed to
have come from Tippoo's collection. Both drew at once an identical
conclusion. These were two of the same stones, very likely torn
apart and disengaged from the rest in the melee at the capture of
the Indian palace.
"Can you take them off?" Sir Charles asked blandly. He spoke in
the tone that indicates business.
"Certainly," the little curate answered, smiling. "I'm accustomed to
taking them off. They're always noticed. They've been kept in the
family ever since the siege, as a sort of valueless heirloom, for
the sake of the picturesqueness of the story, you know; and nobody
ever sees them without asking, as you do, to examine them closely.
They deceive even experts at first. But they're paste, all the same;
unmitigated Oriental paste, for all that."
He took them both off, and handed them to Charles. No man in England
is a finer judge of gems than my brother-in-law. I watched him
narrowly. He examined them close, first with the naked eye, then
with the little pocket-lens which he always carries. "Admirable
imitation," he muttered, passing them on to Amelia.
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