In his palm lay a small, flat, gold locket.
Something like the faintest possible electric shock passed up Mrs.
Slawson's spine, and contracted the muscles about her mouth. For a
second she positively grinned, then quickly her face regained its
customary calm. With a clever, if slightly tardy, movement, her hand
went up to her throat.
"Yes, sir--shoor, it's mine! Now what do you think of that! Me losin'
somethin' I think the world an' all of, an' have wore for, I do' know
how long, an' never missin' it!"
Mr. Ronald's eyes shot out a quick, quizzical gleam.
"O, you have been accustomed to wear it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Mrs. Sherman tells me she never remembers to have seen you with any
sort of ornament, even a gold pin. She thought the locket could not
possibly belong to you."
"Well, it does. An' the reason she hasn't noticed me wearin' it is, I
wear it under my waist, see?"
Again Mr. Ronald fixed her with his keen eyes. "I see. You wear it under
your waist. Of course, that explains why she hasn't noticed it.
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